


Beyond the Impasse

by LiviaKa, MasochisticHero



Series: Impasse [10]
Category: Purple Hyacinth (Webcomic), Purple Hyacinth (webtoon), Purple Hyacinth - Fandom, webtoons - Fandom, 이번에는 닿기를 | Purple Hyacinth (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Canon Compliant, Canon Divergent, Check Notes for Chapter Specific Warnings, Crash And Burn, Dark Character, Drama, F/M, Heavy Angst, Intense, Morally Ambiguous Character, Mystery, Original side characters, PLEASE DON'T EVER FORGET TO CHECK CHAPTER SPECIFIC TAGS ON NOTES, Plot Driven, Plot Twists, Post season/au season 2, Romance, Slow Burn, TURN ON CREATOR SKIN!, Trigger Warnings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:33:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 74,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24221365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiviaKa/pseuds/LiviaKa, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MasochisticHero/pseuds/MasochisticHero
Summary: Things have been better for Kieran and Lauren; but not for Lune, not for the people around them, and not for the citizens of Ardhalis. Their friends begin their own investigations. People who should be dead are alive. Lune is murdered. Everyone is potentially a member of the Phantom Scythe. And everyone wants a revolution in Ardhalis, one way or another.They need to find a way beyond the impasse.___or a rendition picking up from season 1, where the entire main cast is bound to fall from grace.___READ ALL IMPASSE ONE SHOTS FIRST___LATEST  CHAPTER SUMMARY:TRIGGER WARNING: Signs of anxiety, bottling up emotions, downward spiral, possibly depression. Total *character* deconstruction.🌙🌙🌙He was not fine. He will not try to handle this anymore.And it felt good to feel free.It felt home.
Relationships: Lauren Sinclair/Kieran White, William Hawkes/Kym Ladell
Series: Impasse [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1720294
Comments: 90
Kudos: 290





	1. Impasse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Beyond the Impasse** will be a multi chapter, canon divergent yet canon compliant fan fiction. And it will be _long._

cover by [MochiTamako](https://www.instagram.com/mochitamako/)

To fully appreciate the story of **Beyond the Impasse** , it would be best to read the _oneshots_ of the series [**Impasse**](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1720294) in the order specified below. There are various plot details scattered there, setting up the narratives for this story.

Author and creator of the entire series is me. [LiviaKa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiviaKa) is my co-creator and helps me brainstorm how things should go; her additions makes my fic better, spicier, **~~ANGSTIER~~**. She also sometimes supplies side fics. [ObliviateMyMind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObliviateMyMind/pseuds/ObliviateMyMind) has joined the team to supply steamy smuts. These lovely people make Impasse better.

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  1. > [Operation Stakeout](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23836363/chapters/57279340) [MHero](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MasochisticHero/pseuds/MasochisticHero/works?fandom_id=39483850)

  2. > [Risque Romance](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23836363/chapters/57549784#workskin) [MHero](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MasochisticHero/pseuds/MasochisticHero/works?fandom_id=39483850)

  3. > [Degrading Degeneracy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23989042) [MHero](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MasochisticHero/pseuds/MasochisticHero/works?fandom_id=39483850)

  4. > [Si Seulement](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23896621) [MHero](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MasochisticHero/pseuds/MasochisticHero/works?fandom_id=39483850)

  5. > [Iridescent Icarus](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23947102) [MHero](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MasochisticHero/pseuds/MasochisticHero/works?fandom_id=39483850)

  6. > [Renewed Revenge](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24020758) [MHero](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MasochisticHero/pseuds/MasochisticHero/works?fandom_id=39483850)

  7. > [Silent Sanctuary](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24062164/chapters/57906190) [MHero](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MasochisticHero/pseuds/MasochisticHero/works?fandom_id=39483850)

  8. > [Delightfully Domestic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24062164/chapters/57988279#workskin) [MHero](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MasochisticHero/pseuds/MasochisticHero/works?fandom_id=39483850)

  9. > [Forgotten Fragments](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24130114) [MHero](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MasochisticHero/pseuds/MasochisticHero/works?fandom_id=39483850)

  10. > [Miracle Morning](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23836363/chapters/58024627#workskin) [MHero](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MasochisticHero/pseuds/MasochisticHero/works?fandom_id=39483850)

  11. > [Drunken Discourse](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24204421) [MHero](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MasochisticHero/pseuds/MasochisticHero/works?fandom_id=39483850)

  12. > [Two Cups of Vienna](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24300937) [LiviaKa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiviaKa/pseuds/LiviaKa)




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Additional chapters that cannot be accommodated in the main story due to difference in tone will be listed down here:

  * > [Licentious Lovers](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25223173) [ObliviateMyMind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObliviateMyMind/pseuds/ObliviateMyMind)

  * > [Enamoured Ecstasy ch. 01-02](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24611461/chapters/59455141) [LiviaKa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiviaKa/pseuds/LiviaKa)




read after [Chapter 14: Irreconcilable Information](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24221365/chapters/59434114)

  * > [Wretched Witch ch. 01-02](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24754834/chapters/59851318) [MHero](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MasochisticHero/pseuds/MasochisticHero/works?fandom_id=39483850)




read after [Chapter 15: Solitary Stakeout](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24221365/chapters/59560501)

  * > [Memoirs of a Courtesan ch. 01 The Four Fingered Man](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24960736/chapters/60421042) [MHero](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MasochisticHero/pseuds/MasochisticHero/works?fandom_id=39483850)




read after [Chapter 16: Sweet Suspiscions](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24221365/chapters/60007888)

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The Podfic-ers are a group of youtubers who dub Impasse. Follow them on [Youtube](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCKPUGGPSuza2bVn6dT4446g) and [Instagram](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24221365/chapters/As%20read%20by%20the%20PodDic_ers).

  
(add youtube embed here)

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_**I hope you enjoy the story! Please move on to the r ~~eal first chapter~~ , (which is considered the 13th chapter of the series).** _

_**-MHero ♥** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All characters of Purple Hyacinth belong to [Sophism](https://www.instagram.com/deadsophism/?hl=en) and [Ephemerys](https://www.instagram.com/ephemerys_ph/?hl=en).
> 
> [Read Purple Hyacinth on Webtoons](https://www.webtoons.com/en/mystery/purple-hyacinth/list?title_no=1621&page=1)
> 
> [Official Purple Hyacinth Discord](https://discord.gg/DfkfTxD)


	2. Phantom Peril

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ll be watching you, Kieran White,” he advised, his voice as icy as his cold grey eyes.
> 
> “And I don’t care, Dylan Rosenthal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OST while reading: [SHADOWS OF THE PAST](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OJRoYqcEP_8) by [Really Slow Motion](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCRJcLPBG8AL7CY24bHNV76w).
> 
> _Loop the music ♥_

A man silently walked under the cover of the clouds, his footsteps faint and barely audible as he passed like a ghost through the deserted roads. He kept himself to the shadows, away from the prying eyes of neighbours and villains alike. Greychapel, named after the once majestic church fallen from grace to ruins, was dimly lit and quiet tonight. It was the most desolate place in the city, riddled with crime and poverty. Hidden within its tight alleys were thieves and murderers, scampering about, like infected rats coming in and out of the filthy sewers of the city.

And this man was the biggest disease that ever blighted the city, _nay_ , the country of Ardhalis.

He was the Purple Hyacinth, the grim reaper of a syndicate called the Phantom Scythe, dedicated to spreading the plague of dissidence and rebellion through the cracks of society. Ardhalis had, for so long, hung on a peace so fragile; but no more, as what was once silent whispers of opposition became the cries of the malcontent. With the explosion of the Allendale Train Station, came the imploding of society’s delicate balance, shattering like glass in an attempt to close the gap between those born rich and those damned to be poor.

The Purple Hyacinth’s coat trailed behind him like a cape in the wind as he opened the door to the shady tavern called the _Grim Goblin_.

This pub was the den of sinners, where the filthy and accursed souls traded stories about the various crimes they’ve committed. The bigger the offense, the more popular one became. And in this circle of hell, the Purple Hyacinth was crowned king.

He ignored the silent onlookers, now whispering about his achievements on the tower.

A phenomenal assassin, they praised. Gifted with talent, they said.

Humbug.

He was nothing like these men, who trifled with the gift of life as if it was just a statistical collateral in this political game of chess. He knew more than anyone that they were all just dispensable pieces of the _Leader_. Yet there he was, like a whipped dog, coming back to his overlords to report the latest details of his mission.

Envelope on hand, he stepped to the back of the bar and descended to the depths of the earth, deeper and closer to the truth he so wanted to uncover.

“Purple Hyacinth, welcome back,” the Messenger greeted through his white beak.

Like an enigma, the Messenger was one of the mysteries of the Phantom Scythe. Whoever lay beyond that mask was only known to the man behind it. But two can play that game. The Hyacinth trained himself enough that his own face was a facade of perfected deception.

A lie about a lie, will turn itself inside out.

“Greetings comrade,” the Hyacinth grinned.

He laid down his envelope, throwing its contents on the table. “Here are some of the information I’ve collected about… Lune.”

The Hyacinth knew better than anyone that these stacks of paper were meaningless dead ends. These were various reports made by the police, none too relevant nor too detailed enough to catch the elusive _La Lune_. And had there been any useful information, he would have tampered right away. Each document was carefully curated by the Hyacinth himself to make sure that there would be no traces of information left that could lead _anyone_ to the vigilantes.

Because the Hyacinth himself was half of _La Lune_.

The Messenger looked at the documents, scanning them carefully.

“Progress?”

“The police doesn’t have any leads on Lune. I think they stopped operations after I killed all those people in the tower,” he chuckled at the irony. What else could _they_ have done, when _La Lune_ ’s operations were meddled by one of its very own operators?

The Messenger continued to read the documents. “And you don’t see anything suspicious on your end?”

“No.”

“Anything else you need to report?” the Messenger prodded.

The Hyacinth knew exactly what the Messenger wanted to hear. “I took the liberty of dating the niece of the Chief of Police,” he grinned cockily, his blue eyes filled with arrogant malice, ready to reveal his falsified truth.

“So we’ve heard.” The messenger pulled out an envelope from his coat, and spilled its contents on the table. There laid, exposed on the desk, were photographs of him and a red haired woman. From their leisure walks on the park, to their impulsive dinners at random pubs, to their midnight strolls.

On each photograph, his expressions were real and raw. This was the real him. Not the infamous Purple Hyacinth, but the man behind the cursed name.

As expected. He was being followed and observed.

“What is your reason for doing so?”

“For the mission.”

“Elaborate.”

“Information. As niece of the highest ranking police in the country, she’s bound to attain some inside details about Lune. And she’d be a nice bargaining chip, if push comes to shove.”

A very convincing alibi. For the red haired woman was much more than that.

She was _his_ _Lune_.

“Is that so?”

“Have I ever given you any reason to doubt me? It is what it is.”

He was a very capable liar, and only those with the special gift will be able to hear the mendacity in his words.

“The L _eader_ permits this, although you now have conditions to follow. Here are the details of your new mission.”

The Hyacinth graciously received the papers, and read the conditions of his new mission. There were two details that he found suspicious. First, he must prevent _her_ from investigating _anything_. All information that she will gather will be diverted to a dead end. And second, she must be kept safe from harm.

As expected. She indeed does have someone watching over her from within the Phantom Scythe.

“What of Lune?”

“Even if they retreated like the cowards that they are, make do with what you have. The Leader still expects them dead.”

Pity.

“Am I allowed to ask questions?” he _asked_ with a dangerous smile.

“No.”

He may be the whipped dog guarding the gates of hell, but he will bite back at the hand that fed him, trained him, and turned him into the backstabbing monster that he now was.

“As always, burn the paper after you are done.”

* * *

The Purple Hyacinth stalked out of the inn, burning the contents of his new mission on the furnace of the tavern before stepping out. This was all getting more and more complicated. His mind raced, thinking which of the Phantom Scythe’s _venerable_ rulers was protecting his _beaut_ from finding out her truth.

Conspiracies over conspiracies, and even him, the most dangerous and mysterious of the Phantom Scythe, does not know how deep and elaborate the roots of the organization ran.

He stopped by an alley, well aware that he was being shadowed. “Come out to the light, where I can see you,” he called in an amused tone. There were limited forces in the known world that can challenge the existence of this fearsome man.

Out came was a white haired young man of twenty two. His face had a pleasing smile, yet he emitted an aura as dangerous as the Hyacinth’s. Raising his hand with the missing finger, he gleefully said, “Hello there, Hyacinth.”

He cracked back a smile at the intruder, yet his eyes radiated calm anger. The man in front of him was once a _best_ _friend_ , but after a _disagreement_ borne from their shared miserable circumstance, he became a bitter rival.

“Have you been tasked to follow me?” he asked in a challenging tone. It was a rhetorical question. The Hyacinth knew full well that each and every photograph the Messenger presented to him was taken by this man before him.

“Nothing gets past you, dear _friend_.”

“Any particular reason why are so vocal about following me?”

The man answered by attacking the Hyacinth.

The assassin took a step back, pulling out a dagger to parry the hidden blade the white haired man jabbed. After a rally of attacks, the man was able to push the Hyacinth to the wall, pointing the edge of his blade to the cornered man’s throat.

“After all these years, I’m still a better combatant than you.”

The man’s grey eyes shined bright like the moonlight as he looked at the Hyacinth’s turquoise eyes threateningly. “Do you still follow your misguided morals?”

The assassin pulled back a smile. “Well of course, I don’t want to become some sort of a _mad psychopath_ killing everyone I see. You must also take into consideration the fact that I don’t intend to kill you,” he quipped.

“I don’t really care about you anymore, but what are you planning?” he hissed.

The Hyacinth let out a laugh. “And here I thought you were a sly information broker. But now you’re going to bully me into telling you answers? Bad business.”

The man pushed the tip of his blade deeper against the assassin’s throat, scraping it down ever so slowly, until just a little bit of his skin ruptured and bled.

“Are you going to sell me your information?” he whispered.

“Only if you pay me something of equal value,” the Hyacinth growled back.

“Then tell me what you are doing with _Lauren Sinclair_?”

The question took the man behind the Hyacinth mask by surprise. Why should _this man_ even be interested with his dearly beloved?

“Why should this interest you, dear _friend_?” he responded, staring down his threatener. His face was hardened, angry even, that someone else was prying into his business. “I thought that the first rule of undercover missions was to not ask about undercover missions.”

The man leered and closed the distance between their faces. His smile contorted to a look of pure wrath, as he snarled, “Don’t you dare involve her with your bullshit, _White_. If you hurt her, or make _Ren_ cry-”

“ _Ren_?” the Hyacinth repeated, confusion apparent in his voice.

The man’s eyes widened, realizing that he said too much. He pulled his blade, released the Hyacinth from his grip, and sheathed his weapon back.

“I’ll be watching you, _Kieran White_ ,” he advised, his voice as icy as his cold grey eyes.

The Hyacinth simply patted down his clothes, throwing an equally viscous look at his assailant.

“And I don’t care, _Dylan Rosenthal_.”

At the same time, the men turned to their backs and melded into the shadows, each walking their own paths of darkness further away from their shared past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, we start with a theory that divides the community. In this story, Dylan is alive and well. He also works with the PS. Even if you don't agree with this theory, I hope you'll still read this story. 
> 
> ~And the plot thickens.
> 
> \---
> 
> All characters of Purple Hyacinth belong to [Sophism](https://www.instagram.com/deadsophism/?hl=en) and [Ephemerys](https://www.instagram.com/ephemerys_ph/?hl=en).
> 
> [Read Purple Hyacinth on Webtoons](https://www.webtoons.com/en/mystery/purple-hyacinth/list?title_no=1621&page=1)
> 
> [Official Purple Hyacinth Discord](https://discord.gg/DfkfTxD)


	3. Tainted Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lauren was no longer the innocent, self-righteous angel she once was. She was tainted and impure, a degenerate in the eyes of the gods and of the law; an immoral woman whose once white wings were now painted black.
> 
> And she will not hesitate to fall from the graces of heaven and stand side by side with her devil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OST while reading: [DREAM DANCER](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_z411ShLWHI) by [Ben Crosland](https://soundcloud.com/ben-crosland).
> 
> _Loop the music ♥_

The Sinclair Estate was a beautiful one hectare property in the middle of the capital city of Ardhalis. The manor, right in the centre of the land, was a grand building of Victorian elegance. The façade was made of brilliant white stone that shined in the sunlight; its walls were lined with gothic-esque windows that filled the interiors with natural ambient light. Its roof was dark and strong, made of expensive terracotta; and its main door, fronted by a large porch, was made of solid hardwood. Surrounding the building was a well-manicured garden, full of different varieties of daisies, hyacinths, snapdragons, and various flowers that were local to the country of Ardhalis.

Even though it was a large residence, its usual visitors were the ghosts of a tragic past. It was a shell; peaceful and quiet, yet still and lifeless. The rooms were always bare, devoid of human touch, succumbing to the erosion of time. Every footstep echoed throughout its long halls, reminding its inhabitants of the emptiness that filled it instead.

It was a bright day that morning, and for the first time in a while, the dining table was filled with all sorts of delicious food. The mistress of the manor was eating breakfast at home.

Like a silent angel bathing in the warm morning light, Lauren Sinclair pensively ate her food, contemplating about her future plans.

The lady rarely ate at all, as she was prone to self-starvation even if she had the luxury of abundant food. Often, she ate on the way to her office, if a mere coffee cup could even be considered one. She was a worked at the 11th precinct, notable for being the richest residential neighbourhood in the entire city, where she was stationed as a patrol officer, after being demoted from her detective rank about a year and a half ago.

Her trail of thoughts were broken as her uncle took a seat beside her.

“Good morning,” he greeted as he sat down the centre of the dining table.

“I see that we’d both be having breakfast today.”

Lauren welcomed her uncle’s presence. Throughout both of their busy schedules, they rarely get the time to enjoy food together at the table. He had been taken care of Lauren for ten long years, ever since the _horrific_ _accident_ that _claimed_ both of her parents’ lives. He had been kind enough to take in the orphaned daughter of his brother, care for her, provide for her, and help _manage_ her estates and properties.

Tristan Sinclair was Lauren’s heaven sent.

“We are invited to the Viscount Redcliff’s ball,” he said happily, as he took a serving of pancakes.

This invitation did not surprise Lauren. As a matter of fact, she had been expecting it. Tristan was the Chief of Police of the entire country, and it was a position of power that secured him the social status that he had. He was invited to every ball, every social gathering, and every banquet that _any_ important person held. And all invitations received by the chief extended to Lauren, the heiress of the Sinclair fortune.

_Attending this ball will be one of her major stepping stones to unveiling the hidden truth_.

Being a detective was all she ever wanted after _his_ death, because she strongly believed that it was the righteous path to uncover the secrets of the Phantom Scythe, the country’s most dangerous crime syndicate, perpetrator of the Allendale Train Tragedy.

Yet, every step she took was doubled by a setback. Ever since she was demoted, her quest for justice had come to a full stop. Ten long and tedious years and she had barely scratched the surface of the conspiracies related to this evil group.

She had even begun to think if everything she ever did was all just for naught.

Then _he_ came barrelling into her already turbulent life, like a devil summoned from the deepest circle of hell. With a pact sealed in blood, _he_ offered her the road to lawless vengeance; the only price to pay being her loyalty to the country she so loved, in exchange for her loyalty to _their_ cause.

To take down the Phantom Scythe.

And so she donned on a mask and became the elusive vigilante _La Lune_ , the newest enemy of the country, nemesis to both the police and the Scythe.

“Of course Uncle, I will be joining you,” Lauren smiled, knowing that everything was according to plan.

“Do you have a date to bring this time?” he asked _knowingly_.

Tristan had always advocated for his niece’s dating life, claiming that it would help her move on from the tragedies of the past. It was a tedious process, but she did her fair share of _terrible_ first dates just to satisfy the request he made. And although she had chosen to become a public servant, she was still quite well known within the socialites of the city. Far and wide, men of status praised her crimson hair, no doubt taken from her father. But even more well-known was her golden pensive eyes, which looked just like her mother’s.

She could become one of the city’s most eligible bachelorettes, if she just made herself available.

_Unattainable. Daughter of a rich family, niece of the Chief of Police. Very high standards with men_.

Usually, she was resistant to these shallow and base men, barley trifling with them while she chased her own brand of justice. But _he_ was her devil, her _subordinate_ , who will herald her to the truth that had forever been eluding her.

“Yes, actually. Surprise,” she grinned, waving a fork around. “I finally succeeded in having a love life.”

Not a lie, but not her entire truth either.

_He_ was _her Lune_.

Tristan clasped his hands in delight. “That’s good. I’m proud of you Lauren. This is the first step to your healing.”

If healing meant uncovering the operations of an entire terrorist organization and dragging them all to irredeemable damnation, then her uncle had hit the mark. But Lauren knew better. Deep inside, she felt a tinge of guilt, as she was slowly becoming the liar that she never wanted to be.

“Do I know him?”

How long was she going to bend the truth in front of the people she cared for the most?

Of course her uncle knew _him_. He was _La Lune_ , and _so much more_. He was a sinner in the eyes of both the gods and the law. He was the scourge that spilled so much blood on the city. He was the devil, biggest disease that ever blighted the country. He was the _Purple Hyacinth_.

“ **No** , but he works as an archivist in the 11th precinct.”

Had she not danced with the devil himself, she would not have known that the Scythe was involved with her parents’ horrific accident. Each step to her truth was a step away from her strongly guarded morals.

Lauren was no longer the innocent, self-righteous angel she once was. She was tainted and impure, a degenerate just like him in the eyes of the gods and of the law; an immoral woman whose once white wings were now painted black.

It can be said that she was as much guilty as he was.

“I see. You seem happier.”

And she will not hesitate to fall from the graces of heaven to pull up the devil to the skies; _he_ who who always tried _his_ best to become as human as _he_ can possibly be.

In her eyes, _he_ was not a monster, but was a man worthy to share her eternity with.

“Yes, I really like him.”

This was the pure, gospel truth weaved between the half lies she had been perpetuating to the people around her.

Tristan seemed satisfied with her answers. “Can you arrange a lunch meeting with him? I’d love to meet your suitor.”

And so she obliged. Whatever were parts of an act, whatever were the half-truths and lies were all becoming muddled together as she sunk deeper into the sea of relentless revenge. Whether or not she was on a path of self-ruin, Lauren Sinclair didn’t know.

For the most part, she was beginning to not care anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some dark thoughts for Lauren.
> 
> \---
> 
> All characters of Purple Hyacinth belong to [Sophism](https://www.instagram.com/deadsophism/?hl=en) and [Ephemerys](https://www.instagram.com/ephemerys_ph/?hl=en).
> 
> [Read Purple Hyacinth on Webtoons](https://www.webtoons.com/en/mystery/purple-hyacinth/list?title_no=1621&page=1)
> 
> [Official Purple Hyacinth Discord](https://discord.gg/DfkfTxD)


	4. Paramount Problems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t you worry sir, I will always keep Lauren safe,” Kieran declared with steadfast dedication. It was a promise that he would never ever attempt to break.
> 
> Tristan’s eyes gleamed as he replied, “That’s exactly what I’m counting on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OST while reading: [THOUGHTS](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=82GlhgJJMz4&list=RDXUWnrhKTu9M&index=31) by [Marika Takeuchi](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCMmZENxwf0KBy3D7XF6I-Bw).
> 
> _Loop the music ♥_

Kieran enjoyed his peaceful walk to the station, free from being followed by any phantoms of the night.

He loved Ardhalis, the city he grew up in. Too bad it didn’t love him back.

Had the only eventful affair been the new mission he was given, he wouldn’t have thought about it too much. Kieran already knew that there was, most probably, a _very_ high ranking member who wanted his _beaut_ kept safe and ignorant. And his prediction was right on point.

_At the very least, no assassin will be given an order to kill her_. _Nor would any idiot dare to attack her._

But what he didn’t understand was what _Dylan Rosenthal_ ’s relationship with his dearly beloved was. First and foremost, _he_ had no business meddling with the Hyacinth’s missions anymore since _he_ was stationed as an information broker.

_He_ may have been given the task by this high ranking member to stalk him and find out what why the Hyacinth suddenly had a girlfriend, but that does not justify the obvious emotional entanglement the _man_ clearly had for his dearly beloved.

_Ren_ , _he_ had called her.

It was as much a pet name as _darling_ and _mon amour_.

He clenched his fist just thinking about it.

As if on cue, he spotted her crimson hair flying about in the middle of the town square, like a beacon beckoning him to come to her. A smile brightened up his face as he sped up his pace.

Kieran pulled her by the wrist, twirled her to him, and rested a hand on her lower back to pull her close. “Good morning _mon amour_ ,” he greeted with a low voice, leaning his face closer to hers. His eyes, hiding behind false lenses, were playful; his lips curled into a smirk; as if he was enjoying this blatant public display of affection between them, in the middle of the streets, during broad daylight.

It was a declaration to anyone who might be watching them. She was his, and no one else’s.

_So back the fuck off_.

Lauren’s golden eyes were wide from shock, but it was immediately replaced by a mischievous look. Ignoring the envious onlookers, she gently wrapped her arms around Kieran’s waist and batted her eyelashes at him.

_Beautiful_ , he thought.

“Well, aren’t you energetic this morning, subordinate,” she replied quietly, planting a long kiss on his lower lip.

Who ever thought that letting his real emotions out into the sun would feel freeing? No more pretending, no more holding back. Even if _this_ was part of an elaborate act, these were his real and raw emotions from the bottom of his heart.

_He returned her kiss passionately_.

In the eyes of the enemies lurking in the shadows, he might have looked like an especially talented actor. How can someone as heartless and as cruel as the Purple Hyacinth smile so genuinely and act so carefree?

_Wasn_ ’ _t he a monster_?

Kieran pulled back and looked at her bright eyes full of hope and happiness. They looked like how they did, once, long ago.

Perfect.

He only needed her validation. He only wanted her happiness. _The rest of the cruel world can burn in hell_.

“You indulge me so, darling. Now, we have some important things to discuss,” he smiled. He offered his arm, which she gladly took, and they strolled slowly on their way to the 11th precinct. Inspecting their surroundings to make sure they weren’t being followed, they took the least populated sidewalks as they begun to discuss business.

“The Grim Goblin was a buzz last night. It seems that the last of the three shipments of Tim Sake have arrived. The people there didn’t know how to keep their mouths shut. But yes, I was able to confirm that they did push back the explosion months back.”

Kieran had been keeping his his ears to the ground for any information regarding this explosion and revolution that the 7th was planning. Once he knew where to look and who to watch out for, it had become an easier task. After all, Sake was a noisy man. It was easy to hear his words when he wanted to gloat. And he had been in a sour mood ever since Davenport called him that one night when William had sucker punched the scarred man.

The date for the 7th’s operations were pushed back months.

“But we already know that. Remember from our intel, our final schedule is August 22.”

“That’s quite a far offset, but we can try to make it work. We can start by attending the ball. Any more from your visit?”

“Ah yes. Unfortunately, the Lune mission is still underway. I’d need to deliver a head or two sooner or later, and I’m keen on taking that suggestion of yours to just find some abandoned dead body.”

“It was always an option, push comes to shove.”

“Well, a more distressing news is that I received a new mission last night, and it was regarding _you_ ,” he started grimly.

After their _argument_ regarding the affair of the tower massacre, Kieran promised Lauren that each and every mission he will receive henceforth will be reported to her. It was a sign of trust from both ends of the party, as the work of the Purple Hyacinth would greatly affect the activities of _La Lune_. They made a new agreement built on honesty and trust.

“And I was right. Two details, darling. First, all your personal investigations related to the Scythe must be destroyed. Second, I must keep you safe from harm at all times.”

He noticed her hand tense. It must be off-putting for her, the very idea that the person she was trying to destroy was a person she knew. “Is it from the Leader?” she asked with a hardened voice.

Kieran put his other hand over hers as a sign of reassurance. “We always say that everything is for the Leader, but we actually don’t know if orders are from him or one of the apostles.”

At least, that was how he thought it. The messenger was sly, working multiple fronts.

Lauren visibly frowned. “Okay, so this person is either the leader or one of the apostles?”

“Pretty much, yes.”

It was a mystery they needed to solve, but not one they can answer right away. But there was another matter bothering him more; another member of the Phantom Scythe that also seemed to be related to Lauren, for reasons he does not know yet.

He considered asking Lauren if she knew anything about a certain _Dylan Rosenthal_ , but he chose to withhold his query. This was one thing he can’t even force himself to share with her. And why he felt so, he didn’t know why.

Well, no. He knew perfectly why.

The way _he_ said _Ren_ , so crude and so full of emotion, irritated him so much. Was this worry? Was this _jealousy_? Was he hysterical for thinking that perhaps Lauren and Dylan had some sort of entanglement in the past that would threaten his position as her one and only man?

Lauren must have noticed his minor distress. “Is that everything about your mission?”

“Yes, **I was just a bit tired last night**.”

He will not hide the existence of this _third party_ from her. But he won’t initiate discussions about it either. Kieran decided that he would first investigate the nature of their relationship on his own, before deciding how to move forward with this information.

And Lauren was kind enough not to prod his obvious lie. “Since I’m letting you off the hook with your little lies, I need you to do something for me.”

What a forgiving goddess.

“And what do you command of me, my darling?”

“Have lunch with Uncle Tristan and me later. He wants to meet you,” she said grimly.

A chuckle escaped from his lips as he animatedly put his hand over his heart.

“You want me, the most notorious assassin in the entire country, to have a lunch date with the Chief of Police?”

With a straight face, Lauren lightly slapped Kieran’s arm. Admittedly, it was a bad joke.

“Do you want me to shoot your pretty face?”

“ **Yes please**.”

Lauren rolled her eyes, pouting and rolling her eyes as she lowered her voice.

“ _No_ , I want my archivist _boyfriend_ to have lunch with me and my uncle.

Kieran felt his heart race faster, but he wasn’t about to let her know that.

“It’s a prerequisite so that I can take you along the Viscount’s ball.”

Viscount Redcliff.

From what _La Lune_ gathered a few weeks ago from their _pathetic attempt at an infiltration_ of the Carmen Camelia, something big will be happening in Viscount Redcliff’s ball. Not only that, there will also be a Phantom Scythe meeting within the manor, hidden in plain sight amongst the party of the nobles and the elite.

The nobleman was definitely part of the Scythe, but they did not have enough information regarding his involvement. _La Lune_ had unanimously decided that they were done with the old kidnap, interrogate, and hand over to the police tactic.

A repeat of the tower massacre was not something they would both want.

Hence, their attendance to this party was a must for the success of their cause.

“Tricky. And he doesn’t suspect anything weird between us?”

The only thing that was worth suspecting was his real identity.

“No, I don’t think so. As long as he doesn’t do a background check on you, you’ll be safe.”

Kieran laughed at the irony. If anyone did a proper background check on him, he’d be saved from this endless purgatory he was forced to and imprisoned in.

“Why, for your information, I have a **clean background**. The Scythe was **kind enough** to manipulate my backstory so no one would suspect anything.”

He was taken and kidnapped. In paper, he was pronounced dead. And for three long years, he was forced to endure training to become the _monster_ he now was.

Kieran White was one of the 176 people reported missing during the Allendale Train Tragedy.

“So, lunch? We’re good, right?”

“Of course, your wish is my command. I’ll pick you up from your desk later,” he said, kissing her temple.

They entered the precinct hand in hand as the ignored the audience whispering about them. There were _more_ _pressing matters_ to think about other than petty gossip and that bastard _Dylan Rosenthal_.

* * *

“Now, subordinate, behave yourself,” Lauren instructed, running a hand through his hair.

“ **I’m always well behaved** ,” he laughed jovially. But in reality, this was the first time in a very long while that he felt nervous. Perhaps it was the prospect of eating lunch with the Chief of Police; maybe it was the anticipation of meeting with the only living relative of his dearly beloved; possibly, it was the fear of being discovered. Or all three.

“Just try, for me.”

They entered the _Restaurant Le Meurice_ , one of the most expensive restaurants within the entire city. The Versailles inspired salon had elaborate gold painted mouldings against its frescoed walls and ceiling. There were multiple crystal chandeliers, all lighted with yellow bulbs that emitted a warm glow of light within the bright room. Antique mirrors were attached to the ceiling, reflecting the sunlight that came in through the large windows.

“May I help you?” The hostess greeted them with a warm smile.

Kieran looked around upon entering. He hasn’t eaten in this place in _years_.

“Reservation for Tristan Sinclair,” Lauren replied. The hostess led them to a circular table for three by the window, with a good view that overlooked the outdoor garden where daisies, purple hyacinths and snapdragons were blooming. Tristan Sinclair was already seated, and stood up upon seeing his niece and her date.

“Uncle!” Lauren greeted, kissing the Tristan on the cheek. “This is my _suitor_.”

“Good day, sir. Kieran White,” he introduced himself with a handshake.

Kieran smiled, not too flashy, nor too cocky, but not too meek nor too small. He needed to make a first good impression on this man, if he wanted to keep dating Lauren.

“Tristan Sinclair,” the man replied, taking his hand.

They all sat down at the table and ordered.

“So tell me, how did you two meet?” Tristan inquired with great zeal. Lauren proceeded to narrate a false story about how they met at the precinct after he joined the office as the newest archivist. As much as possible, she tried to stay true to the essence of their story, and removed any detail that might land one or both of them in jail.

Basically, Lauren falsified everything. No murders, no kidnapping, no vigilantism, no infiltrations.

Just basic, textbook dating.

And Kieran felt bad of how he thought that that version sounded a lot more boring than the exciting truth of their affair. The real tale behind their love story would make for a better ‘How I met your mother’ type of story.

When Lauren finished her narration, Tristan turned to Kieran. “So, tell me about yourself.”

He had an elaborate backstory planned, but Tristan quickly followed up with, “Are you related with Duke White? He was close friends with my brother, you see. He and the Duchess had finally come home, and their first public appearance will be at the Viscount Redcliff’s ball after ten years of staying overseas.”

Kieran paused, processing the information. There was something big going to happen at the ball, but that suddenly felt small and little compared to the information just dropped. _They_ were coming home? This was _not_ what was discussed. This was _not_ what was promised. This was _not_ the condition upon which he allowed himself to be blackmailed into.

He took one breath in an attempt to calm himself and feel in control. He can get angry at the Messenger later.

“ **Oh, of course not sir. I was born from a humble family.** ”

From the corner of his eyes, he saw Lauren straighten up and glance at him.

“Ah, I could have sworn you were, seeing as you are the spitting image of the Duke when he was younger. I thought perhaps you were his son, since you shared the son’s name, but it almost slipped past my mind that the boy died in the Allendale Train Tragedy. Forgive me if I was mistaken.”

He smiled.

Where was the lie though? The scion of the Noble House of White died that day, and in his place came the Purple Hyacinth.

“No offence was taken, sir. I’ve been told that quite a lot of times now.”

Kieran had to exercise all the patience he had to engage in this conversation. He continued to tell his fabricated tale of a humble birth, of honest living, but his mind kept coming back to the newest problem that piled itself on his already overflowing plate of concerns.

The Leader, the apostles, Tim Sake’s shipments, an explosion that will put the Allendale Train Tragedy to shame, Lauren’s protector within the Scythe, Dylan Rosenthal’s relationship with Lauren, and now, the _Whites_ coming back after ten years of self-imposed exile.

Everything was warping into a conspiracy that was becoming harder and harder to untangle.

Was this the gods telling him that for every good thing that happened in his life, he will be burdened with twice the problem?

He cursed his fortune as he continued to converse amiably, his perfected mask not letting even an essence of his real emotions leak out to the world.

“You seem like a very fine young man, and I’m glad Lauren has finally decided to move on,” Tristan said approvingly. “She had been so hung up on the tragedies of the past, and I was worried she was going to hurt herself.”

“Don’t you worry sir, I will _always_ keep Lauren safe,” Kieran declared with steadfast dedication. It was a promise that he would never ever attempt to break.

Tristan’s eyes gleamed as he replied, “That’s exactly what I’m counting on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Kieran, having a problem overload. Yeah, I went there. I gave a Kieran backstory :V  
> I hope I'm not too obvious with the plot twists :D
> 
> \---
> 
> All characters of Purple Hyacinth belong to [Sophism](https://www.instagram.com/deadsophism/?hl=en) and [Ephemerys](https://www.instagram.com/ephemerys_ph/?hl=en).
> 
> [Read Purple Hyacinth on Webtoons](https://www.webtoons.com/en/mystery/purple-hyacinth/list?title_no=1621&page=1)  
>    
> [Official Purple Hyacinth Discord](https://discord.gg/DfkfTxD)  
>    
> 


	5. Colluded Conspiracy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tower massacre. The double murder. The list went on as he recalled his bloody days in reverse.
> 
> Kieran never forgot the faces of each and every person he killed. He remembered each pair of eyes that looked at him in fear, all etched in a special place in his heart like ghosts of a graveyard, watching him from the other side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OST while reading: [TIME MARCHES ON](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H7m3aQdz5mw&list=PLDDB91587DF81478D&index=76) by [Rachel Currea](https://rachelcurrea.bandcamp.com/).
> 
> _Loop the music ♥_

With each sound echoing louder, each action getting slower, the rest of the day was a blur for Kieran. It was as if he was a ghost walking the living world, trapped in his own bubble of overwhelming thoughts. Problems, mysteries, conspiracies left and right. Why was he even doing this, if not for the threat of the deaths of loved ones?

Whatever his family ever did to offend the Phantom Scythe even before its conception, he did not know.

But what he did to offend the Phantom Scythe now…

Was someone onto him being Lune? Was he being threatened into submission?

_Was Lauren in danger too?_

He tried to scrap the last idea from his mind, since there was still the fact that a high ranking member had ordered Lauren’s safety. There must be something that he was missing. Ten years, and he was still clueless to everything that was happening around him.

_He felt like he was being manipulated and toyed_.

His body might work like everlasting clockwork, but his mind was already too tired for tonight. He didn’t need the added burden of conscience to weigh down to the bottom of the sea.

Yet there he was, reminiscing the first time blood he spilled the blood of a human being.

He was fixing the records of all cases related to the monstrous Purple Hyacinth. What a coincidence that he was tasked to do so, and today of all days. His hands glossed over each of the report, starting from the very recent murders he had committed.

The tower massacre. The double murder. The list went on as he recalled his bloody days in reverse.

Kieran never forgot the faces of each and every person he killed. He remembered each pair of eyes that looked at him in fear, all etched in a special place in his heart like the ghosts of a graveyard, watching him from the other side.

Finally, he reached the very last page.

His first kill. One of the original apostles.

Kieran remembered it like a horrible nightmare. The man’s disbelief at the identity of his killer, a quick slash to the throat, his dead lifeless eyes slowly losing its _blue light_ -

“Mr. White, Kieran, hey are you there?”

The archivist snapped from his trance, startled as he saw the same set of blue eyes staring at the windows of his soul.

Those eyes should have lost all its light as it dangled from the chandelier of the Greychapel Church.

“William Hawkes,” Kieran said slowly, realization dawning over him as he glanced at the file on his hand. How he never made the connection before, he didn’t know.

Surely, the gods weren’t this cruel?

William looked at the paper on Kieran’s hand. “Oh, I see you were fixing the records related to the Hyacinth.” A grim smile appeared on the lieutenant’s face as he recognized the report that the archivist was currently working on.

“Yes, I’m sorry,” was the only thing Kieran managed to say.

Was he? Throughout the years, he learned to desensitize himself; else, he would have long gone crazy. He had to accept his _monstrosity_ , lest have the eyes of the dead devour him into madness and despair. He tried to avoid all news and information regarding the families of the ones he killed, and never in a million years had he thought that he would be put in a situation like this.

“Oh, don’t be. That was all seven years ago. I’m not even mad. He was a bad father.”

He didn’t know if the kind hearted lieutenant was simply sparing him his feelings, or was wholeheartedly unaffected by the first blood spilled by the Hyacinth.

Nobody even knew that _Stefan Hawkes_ was one of the original apostles that orchestrated the Allendale Train Tragedy.

But even with this fact eluding him, William was obviously saddled with problems enough as it was. Kieran grimaced at the memory of the two of them, back to back, throwing punches to random drunkards at the bar just the other day.

Perhaps his overlords were really testing him.

_They deserved to rot in hell_.

“What can I do for you today, Lieutenant?” Kieran asked with a smile, tucking the file back on its folder.

“I just need the files for Lune.”

Another case of things that give him headaches.

Kieran was so damn tired, he just wanted to sleep tonight. But he stood up and collected the items William needed.

“You seem spent today,” the lieutenant noted.

Kieran was well too practiced to let his real emotions ever show, but William’s eyes were seriously chipping away his well-made mask.

“You should go home, instead of overworking yourself,” the officer said in a worried tone before leaving the archive room.

Perhaps he should, but he needed to start piecing a new report for the Phantom Scythe; and a more useful one for the use of _La Lune_. He needed to put an end to ten long years of suffering and torture before it dragged on to become a full on war that will burn his beloved country of Ardhalis to the ground.

* * *

“Lauren, your boyfriend is as studious as you,” William remarked as he went inside the patrol office, waving the folders he had in his hand. William had gone over to the archive to collect the documents needed for the final piece of his paperwork, leaving her alone in the dark office for a bit. “You should tell him to go home, he looks so tired.”

“Oh, **he was just nervous because we had lunch with my uncle a while ago** ,” Lauren said in full confidence.

Of course that was not the reason. Lauren had enough sense to not confront him earlier about his lies during lunch. Her uncle said some things that obviously rattled Kieran, even if only in her eyes.

“Want to talk about it tonight?” she had asked him earlier when they paused in an empty alleyway to allow Kieran to calm down.

What was there to talk about though, when his lies made it clear who he really was behind the name his name.

_Kieran once asked her if the idea of digging into his past never crossed her mind_.

So Lauren took the liberty of checking her personal files of the Allendale Train Tragedy. She scanned the names of the dead, the injured, and then finally, of the missing.

These were people whose bodies were never retrieved, people who might have just been alive somewhere, buried underneath the rubble, people that were never saved. Near the top of the list was his best friend, the boy she sinned to the most, the boy she offered her quest of vengeance to: Dylan Rosenthal.

She scanned past Dylan, further down, for the first time in her entire life, until her finger found the name she was searching for.

Kieran White.

Each missing person had a profile on the folder. Lauren flipped the thick stack of papers, until she found him.

It was an adorable picture. He looked younger; happier. Sketchbook and pen on hand, his eyes were bright as he was beaming in front of the camera, with a background of hyacinths behind him.

The resemblance was uncanny. How the Scythe manage to rewrite the history of such a boy with a powerful family, she did not know.

> 
>     Marquess Kieran White
>     
>     Age at the time of death: 14
>     Date of Death: November 13, XX177
>     Place of death: Allendale Station
>     Claimed by: Duke White and Duchess White
>     
>     Status: Missing. Presumed dead after 5 days. Body never found.
>     

Well, even if she did do a little snooping before, she would have hit a dead end. He did mention that the Scythe created a fake profile for him. No one would suspect a lowly archivist of being the a missing marquess, a dead son of a duke.

Because in this city, _dead men tell no tales_.

If he had such a rich and powerful family, why did he become the Purple Hyacinth instead? He could have come back, he could have sought protection. He was the heir to a noble house and with talents like his, could have easily become one of the most powerful nobles in the entirety of Ardhalis.

There was something more to this. Add the fact that Viscount Redcliff was also a member of the Phantom Scythe…

_Were the nobles involved in this conspiracy too_?

The possibility of that notion hit her like a truck. Lauren long thought that majority of the Scythe were the angry dissidents of the nation. Thieves, murderers, pillagers, plunderers, profiteers. It never crossed her mind that some of the nobles and the elites, a sector of society she comfortably belonged to, were members of a syndicate trying to destroy the nation from within.

How deep was the network of the Scythe? How many more were there?

Were here rich family friends in on this too?

_Why did they target her parents?_

“Well, since I’m done with my paperwork, I’ll get him,” Lauren smiled as she stood up. She wanted to see Kieran.

“You should ask Kym to help you next time,” she giggled as she packed her bag.

William audibly groaned. “Please spare me, Lauren.” The archivist obviously didn’t forget to tell his dearly beloved about _Wiliame’s_ problems.

* * *

She arrived at the in front of the archive room and peered through the crack of the open door. On the far desk by the window, with the light of the moon delicately shining on him, sat her subordinate.

Kieran’s eyebrows were furrowed, his eyes focused, his hand on his temple, his hair messy. He looked _so_ stressed as he read the papers before him; his aura a far cry from his usual confident air.

“Knock knock,” Lauren said gently as she locked the door behind her.

He immediately straightened at the sound of the door creaking open. “Welcome to my humble office, officer. How may I help you?” he said cheerily.

Lauren sighed as she walked towards where Kieran sat. He may not be a liar, but he was great at masking his truth. He reminded her of how she looked like whenever she overworked herself through sleepless nights. “We have a ball to attend tomorrow night, I need you to get a beauty rest.”

Kieran just chuckled. “Did you check?” They both know what he was talking about.

> “ **Oh, of course not sir. I was born from a humble family.** ”

“Yes, my Lord Marquess,” she said in an attempt at humor.

“I thought so,” he smiled dryly.

Kieran pulled Lauren by her arms and buried his face to her stomach. “You smell nice.” He closed his eyes and inhaled her scent, like a deep breath taken before being drowned by a turbulent storm.

“You want to tell me about it?”

“Yes, I guess I should.”

After all, it was part of their new honesty agreement.

With one swift motion, he lifted Lauren and propped her up his desk. He dragged his chair closer to the table, positioned himself between her legs, and wrapped his arms tightly around her waist. With a tired sigh, he rested his cheek to her thigh and closed his eyes.

“This is comfortable.”

Lauren ran a hand through his messy hair and undid his ribbon. “Then stay there and rest a bit,” she whispered softly as she combed his dark locks. Her other hand busied itself by lifting the documents that he had been reading.

Kieran’s desk had various cases about crimes committed by nobles and elites, all closed and junked because they were too powerful to be locked down.

At least they were on the same page regarding that angle.

She took notice of a particular document. _Felipe Sterling’s Honolulu bets appropriations for the Ardhalis Harbor and the Lighthouse_. She remembered this being an issue a few months back, with investigations and inquiries being opened left and right.

Sterling was William’s uncle from his mother, if she remembered correctly.

Lauren picked up another case file, which documented the Hyacinth’s first kill. It was Stefan Hawkes. She took a deep breath to remember to not get angry on behalf of her friend. Kieran tried his best, Kieran has reasons, she reminded herself.

She put it down and continued to look at the other papers scattered on his desk. Finally, she picked one about Allendale Train Tragedy.

“And I thought you will never be interested in my past,” he said lightly, his eyes still closed and his head still on her lap. “Ironic, right.”

Lauren wrapped her legs around Kieran’s chest to pull him closer to her. “Honestly, subordinate, I think you are being blackmailed. You could have run away to report everything, yet something held you back.”

“Great deduction skills. **This is why I teamed up with you in the first place,** ” he grinned.

Lauren felt his grip on her waist tighten.

“They told me that they will kill my family if I don’t join them. And my family… Apparently they were told that I will be killed, or worse, exposed as the Hyacinth if they don’t keep their end of the bargain.”

She continued to softly pat his head. “Bargain? What do you mean? They had an agreement of sorts?”

“I’m not sure of the details. They left the country twelve days after the Allendale Train Tragedy.”

“Twelve days…” Lauren calculated in her mind. Wait. “November 25?”

“I guess?”

Lauren’s hand stopped. “That’s the date my parents died.”

Kieran sat up instantly. This was too much of a coincidence already. “What? Seriously?”

It was as if the gods were laughing at them run in circles.

Her uncle did say that the Duke and his wife were close with her parents. Something bigger than what they both thought initially was going on.

They both stood up and began to dig the shelves for each and every possible case relevant to this elaborate scheme.

_La Lune_ realized that the Phantom Scythe was not just a rebellion of the poor, of the dissidents, and of the oppressed. It was a full on conspiracy, involving the very people that consisted the foundation of this proud nation.

And everything was falling into place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I SAID THE GENRE IS MYSTERY ♥
> 
> AND SO NOW WE BEGIN CANON DIVERGENCE HARDCORE ♥
> 
> I want to thank [Inspirashamul for his wonderful theory that gave me insight on some events in the story.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g7xLsYabqLY)
> 
> \---
> 
> All characters of Purple Hyacinth belong to [Sophism](https://www.instagram.com/deadsophism/?hl=en) and [Ephemerys](https://www.instagram.com/ephemerys_ph/?hl=en).
> 
> [Read Purple Hyacinth on Webtoons](https://www.webtoons.com/en/mystery/purple-hyacinth/list?title_no=1621&page=1)
> 
> [Official Purple Hyacinth Discord](https://discord.gg/DfkfTxD)


	6. Horrible Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was tired. He was hurt. But he will persevere, just as how he had done all his life.
> 
> He’ll be fine. He can handle it. He’d been handling it for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Signs of verbal abuse and drug abuse.
> 
> OST while reading: [FORGOTTEN](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DjA32E4mdOQ) by [Marika Takeuchi](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCwO4nhIc41gJP_54F1zTNzA).
> 
> _Loop the music ♥_

After finishing up his entire paperwork, William sighed and leaned back to his chair. He kept on rereading each and every Lune report they have, but he still can’t find anything. Why did the captain and the detective insist that the vigilantes were probably one of his?

_Perhaps La Lune was not even a member of his unit_.

_But maybe they were_ , and the lieutenant was simply being blind because he can’t fathom the idea that any of his officers were engaging in vigilantism.

_Improbable_. There was no shadow of a doubt. They may be a bunch of insubordinate hooligans, but they would never betray their mother country like that.

He thought of Harvey Wood, nice, kind Harvey, who died in line of duty.

_Each and every member of the 11_ _th_ _patrol unit were all loyal people who would die for Ardhalis_.

This was fruitless. Sergeant Ladell, who was supposed to be his partner for this secret operation, had done nothing but discuss Lauren’s love life instead of taking the investigation seriously. On top of that, they haven’t talked properly for a week since their _little incident_.

William pinched his nose bridge to ward off the headache threatening to overcome him. Ladell, who was probably the bane of his existence, was the least of his problems. He’d gladly take a hundred of her if it meant that all his other problems would just vanish into the night.

Unfortunately, he had to go home.

William collected his items and walked out to the hallway. He glanced at the archive room, which had lights shining from the bottom slit of the door. Lauren and Kieran were quite busy in there. He could check up in on them, but that would be too impolite.

There went his excuse to not go home yet.

* * *

The Hawkes Mansion was located on the fringes of the 11th precinct, comfortably nestled in a posh neighbourhood of equally expensive houses. Its streets were always bright and crime free; a suburban haven gated from the threats of society. Members of this community were rich business owners and merchants, the children of the new rich, and even legacies of the old rich.

Behind the locale was the sea of Ardhalis. It was a dense ecosystem of corals and fishes. William looked over the ocean from the distance, thinking how he should just run away and disappear into the wild. He inhaled deeply as he held onto the doorknob. There was no time for wishful thinking and fleeting dreams.

He was a responsible young man who can to face his own problems. _He’ll be fine_. _He will handle it_.

He entered the living room, only to be greeted with the maids rushing about. On their hands were towels, pails, medicines, and cleaning materials. From upstairs, he can hear _her_ screaming, throwing objects, and smashing glass. “I don’t want medicine!” _her_ voice screeched.

Mrs. Josephine Sterling-Hawkes was in another one of her episodes. _Every damned day_ , William thought as he internally heaved.

It was opioid addiction this time, the doctors had said.

Where her mother acquired opium, and since when she had been taking it, he didn’t know. But it didn’t matter, since she would always get her stash replenished, one way or another. William attempted to hide her supply before, but she would always succumb to relapse, as her body had become too dependent on the drugs already. Those little green vials had taken over her life. Amazing how his mother can still perfectly manage the Hawkes Enterprise, when at night, she never failed to come home in a fury of rage, with a one track mind of getting her nightly fix.

Her addictions had been getting worse through the years. Back when his father was still alive, his mother was addicted to alcohol. From there, she only got progressively worse; she would shift to various forms of substances, with her latest one being adjusted fentanyl. _Opium_.

He should just repost this to the police, but he needed to do his _family_ right.

William went to the dining room, where he ate the leftovers for dinner. His _favourite_ background music, the tantrum of his mother, played as he dragged his fork across the porcelain plate. Each bite was taken as slow as possible. He gave himself some moment of peace and silence before attempting to calm his deranged mother down. He tried to think of work related things, so much that even Kym Ladell’s face was putting a smile on his face.

He was the proud Lieutenant William Hawkes of the 11th precinct.

_So he’ll be fine. He can handle it_. _He’d been handling it for a long time_.

He steeled his face before going up the stairs. The maids just informed him that his mother was now throwing the crystal vases to the ground. No doubt that come tomorrow morning, she would pretend that it never happened, and order exact replacements of the broken items.

Erasing the evidence of her craze. Just like how she does _every single morning_.

By the time he reached the front of his mother’s room, she on the floor, sobbing. It broke William’s heart to see his mother like this.

Why did it turn out like this? What happened to the happy childhood he once had?

When she saw William, she vomited at the mere sight of her own flesh and blood. “Get out of here!” she screamed at him, liquid dripping from the edge of her lips as she coughed the rest of her fluids out. He could just stare sadly at her as she cursed his existence continuously.

It was as if he wasn’t burdened by her daily outbursts, it was as if she never appreciated how patient he was with her.

“Ungrateful son!” his mother shouted. “Who would carry on the _family business_ once I am dead,” she asked, downtrodden. In her eyes, William was a disappointment, who will never amount to his parent’s expectations.

_It was as if he was not trying his best to live up to whatever mad projections his parents had on him, when he was one of the most accomplished of the ranked officers of his generation._

“Just a lieutenant? You lack your father’s talent! If only you shared your father’s vision for this country!”

It was as if she had no spec of pride for her own son.

In the middle of her insults, she began hyperventilating; choking on her own oxygen and air supply as she cried her eyes out.

The filial son rushed to his mother, just as how he did _every night_. He gently touched his mother’s cheeks, prompting her to maintain eye contact, and instructed her to sync her breathing with his. He counted to a hundred, until she calmed down.

Then he tucked her to bed, kissed her forehead, and started playing the piano that was kept on the corner of her room.

_This was his nightly routine._

He began playing a sad tune, with just a little bit of hope on every other key pressed. His mind wandered to happier memories; playing with Lauren on her mother’s garden, carefree days at the police academy, daily office drama, the watermelon god taking revenge on Kym.

Heck, he even thought of the bar brawl that almost landed him disciplinary probation.

_If only those were the only things he had to deal with._

William’s fingers passionately pressed the keys, with each note he made resonating solemn beauty as he performed his sombre piece to his unappreciative audience. Only with the sound of the piano can he express his true and hidden feelings.

He was tired. He was hurt. But he will persevere, just as how he had done all his life.

_He’ll be fine. He can handle it. He’d been handling it for a long time._

With his mother finally asleep, he stood up. Finally, the day was over. He needed his rest. Tomorrow, he will have an extended shift.

_Viscount Redcliff’s ball._

He looked at the red circus themed invitation carelessly laid on the bedside drawer. Of course, his mother was invited as well. But she never went to these sorts of gatherings any more, not for the last seven years at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sad William noises :(  
> Now we know where he gets his alcohol problems from.
> 
> Credits to [Drawtoria](https://www.instagram.com/drawstoria/) and [Livia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiviaKa/pseuds/LiviaKa) of the 18+ server for helping me piece out the Opium part.
> 
> \---
> 
> All characters of Purple Hyacinth belong to [Sophism](https://www.instagram.com/deadsophism/?hl=en) and [Ephemerys](https://www.instagram.com/ephemerys_ph/?hl=en).
> 
> [Read Purple Hyacinth on Webtoons](https://www.webtoons.com/en/mystery/purple-hyacinth/list?title_no=1621&page=1)
> 
> [Official Purple Hyacinth Discord](https://discord.gg/DfkfTxD)


	7. Colorful Circus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And so we dance again, mon amour,” the devil whispered to her ear, his lips curling into a wicked smile.
> 
> Lauren let the shiver run down her spine. Gathering information, uncovering the truth. She was quite ashamed of the fact that somewhere along the line, she began enjoying all the law breaking they’ve been doing. She forgot how much she missed this; the satisfaction, the confidence, the thrill.
> 
> It was time for La Lune to get to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OST while reading: [DARK WALTZ MUSIC - VAMPIRE MASQUERADE COLLECTION](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PQH7vDJBW1k) by [ Peter Gundry](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCCVPA8UIeyG-UIh-GoOCW-g).
> 
> _Loop the music ♥_

The Redcliffs was a popular family of nobles; new blood nobles in particular. The head of the family was Viscount Redcliff, who bought his title 15 years ago. Rich and well respected, they were known to be strong supporters of the Aevasthers, the current monarchs sitting on the throne of Ardhalis, and had been steadfast with their efforts to help stabilize the kingdom in this era of political turmoil.

As a statesman, he was popular; a well-known advocate of progressive laws, penning bills that increase the minimum wage and bills that support the freedom of press. His latest achievement was the passing of the River and Harbor Bill, an act aimed towards surveying, improving safety, and redevelopments of the transportation waterways.

He was also known for their philanthropy. After all, the Viscount built his fortune by adopting orphans and giving them a second chance in life in his very own Circus Royal.

On the 17th night of the second month every year, the family would regularly host a grandeur ball of splendid magnificence while _Circus Royale_ would give a free show somewhere in the city. To the ball, they would invite every important person; everyone who could be considered a member of the nobles and of the elite society. To the show, the entire city was invited.

The public loved it as much as they loved the Viscount and his family. They were the champions of the poor, and their lavish display of wealth sent only one message: the Redcliffs were the people’s friends in high places, and they had the money to make the wishes of the mass come true.

_Viscount Redcliff was the poster boy of rags to riches and the citizens of Ardhalis ate it up._

Tonight, fancy cars lined up in front of the entrance to the Redcliff Estate. The thousand acre land was bordered by a six meter cast iron fence, meeting on two granite pillars holding the elaborate ten meter cast iron gate. Stationed here were the patrol officers of the various precincts of the city, managing the security of tonight’s ball.

At their helm was Lieutenant William Hawkes of the 11th precinct, the prodigious officer who climbed to his post at the mere age of 22. Tonight, Kym, Lukas, and Lauren were all off duty for various reasons, thankfully, for the lieutenant. He was well respected by his peers from the other precincts, and he didn’t need the insubordination of his own men to be paraded in front of officers from other units.

As today’s officer in charge, he managed this delicate operation. It was a gathering of the nobles and the elites; who knew if the Phantom Scythe would target the ball?

The police needed to be vigilant about who they let in. No one suspicious, no one not on the invitation list, would be allowed within the premises.

Each and every vehicle passing through the checkpoint needed to present their identification papers and invitation, which was a small brown ticket, printed red with a circus themed design.

That was the motif of tonight’s banquet. _That was the motif of every Redcliff banquet._

“You identification and ticket, sir,” the lieutenant said cordially.

The back window of the vehicle rolled down.

“My, if it isn’t my nephew William.”

Felipe Sterling of the Honolulu Company. He was Josephine Sterling-Hawkes’s brother; William’s uncle. The Sterlings were a family of merchants, and their latest acquisitions were the Ardhalis Harbor and the Lighthouse. Months ago, competitors filed complaints about this drastic monopoly, claiming that this purchase was a clear violation of the Ardhalis Competitive Law, especially in conjunction with the newly passed River and Harbor Bill.

Needless to say, Honolulu won the cases filed against it, and now had exclusive rights to the port. William was not an expert in economy, but he knew that Honolulu had been pushing tariff up for those not in a contract with them.

They were all cunning businessmen, his mother and his uncle.

This shrewd practice was the reason he refused to enter the _family business_. Maybe one day, they will get killed too, as karmic revenge against all the people they stepped on to get to where they were now.

_And he wouldn’t even question if they deserved it_. _Just like how his father, the ruthless Chief of Police, deserved his death._

“Uncle! I see you were invited to this ball as well?” William responded with a false smile.

Felipe looked exactly like his mother, except that he looked healthier. Had his mother not succumbed to any sort of addiction, she would still be as pretty as she was, fifteen years ago.

“Why of course dear boy. And why are you out here? Surely you and your mother had received invitations as well,” his uncle said with a patronizing smile.

Felipe knew better than anyone else why _she_ wouldn’t attend; why William refused to go.

“I was hoping to introduce you to my business comrades tonight, had you came as an attendee.”

The lieutenant would rather shoot his own face than be allied with those profiteers that his family called _friends_.

“Oh, I’m on duty today, I’m sorry uncle.”

“And your mother isn’t coming?”

He shook his head regretfully. No doubt she was at home, sedating herself with the liquid from the green vials.

“Pity. You would have made a fine substitute for her in this meeting,” Felipe mused, as if an idea sparked into his head.

William noticed a new car lining up. Time to end this little chat.

“Do enjoy the banquet, uncle,” he said with finality.

“Of course,” Felipe responded. “Do a great job out here protecting the citizens, make Ardhalis proud.”

He planned to do just that.

The next cars rolled in: Ms. Pricilla Rhododenna, Atty. Chas LeBlond, Secretary Mason Paxton, Mr. Ryan Flemmings, the eccentric Lady Arthingham, Postmaster J.G. Pratt, the famous lawyer duo Ridgeway Brothers…

The Sinclairs came in on two separate vehicles. Chief Sinclair arrived first, commending the lieutenant’s dedication and good work. On the next vehicle were his childhood friend Lauren and her date, archivist Kieran White.

He waved at his co-workers and allowed them to pass with no further questions. On a personal level, they were probably the least suspicious people invited to this ball. And as a responsible lieutenant of the country, it was his holy duty to protect all the attendees inside and protect them from _La Lune_ and the Phantom Scythe.

* * *

The ballroom glowed in warm ambience, its many chandeliers lighting the room brightly. Each detail of the vaulted ceiling was emphasized, each trimming and each moulding sparkling bright. The ballroom of the Redcliff Château was a brilliant light bulb glowing from within.

Lauren’s red heels clacked on the marble floor, her black gloved hand holding the arm of her date as they walked down the grand staircase. Her hair was tied in a [loose high ponytail](https://media1.popsugar-assets.com/files/thumbor/Ntv1lBCepGyKdD-P2rG9Y0iBDMM/fit-in/1024x1024/filters:format_auto-!!-:strip_icc-!!-/2019/03/05/978/n/1922153/addurlLSJgu0/i/Wedding-Hair-Inspiration-From-Instagram.jpg), curled and waved elegantly, with small daisies delicately pinned around her elegant plait. She wore a [burlesque red satin gown](https://live.staticflickr.com/5247/5287526165_c38bb0a819_b.jpg); the sweetheart top cut of the dress cupping her breast perfectly, and while allowing a decent amount of cleavage, emphasized her attractive physique. The fabric embraced her waist, before flaring unevenly in multiple layers, draping over one of her legs while partially exposing the other.

On her hidden leg were her pistol and an extra dagger, securely strapped in place on her thigh.

_Just in case_.

The crowning piece of her ensemble was her [masquerade mask](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/c7/d2/5e/c7d25eeb0a2e8fed6d955359bf005bfa.jpg): black and glittered, embellished with a striped rope, a large black feather, fishnet, and a fresh red rose. The darkness of the mask emphasized her bright golden eyes.

_A fine contrast from the usual white mask she wore at work._

Kieran wore a [black suit](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/87/bd/1a/87bd1af0ebe8439a8794727b6226a4e1.jpg) over a black dress shirt, black satin tie, and embroidered red velvet vest. His hair was tied in a low black ribbon, and on his face was a [plain black mask](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/da/e2/71/dae271334fedc3f7a1535dfefadf3818.jpg) of uneven proportions that hid his turquoise eyes behind a thin black mesh. _Tres elegante_.

He was the incubus to her succubus; like a match made in hell.

“And so we dance again, _mon amour_ ,” the devil whispered to her ear, his lips curling into a wicked smile.

Lauren let the shiver run down her spine. _Gathering information_ , _uncovering the truth_. She was quite ashamed of the fact that somewhere along the line, she had begun enjoying all the law breaking they’ve been doing. She forgot how much she missed this; the satisfaction, the confidence, the _thrill_.

It was time for _La Lune_ to get to work.

Under the bright lights, with the watchful eye of the public on them, they danced in perfect, calculated synchrony. This ballroom was their stage, and they were the stars of the show. Tonight, they will dance a performance that will stamp out any doubts from anyone’s mind about the reality of their entanglement.

_Waltzing_. They needed to act perfectly in order to convince the relevant people the proper narrative of their relationship. For the eyes of the public, they were a loving couple; for the eyes of the Scythe, the Hyacinth was a spy; for _La Lune_ they were the agents of truth.

_Waltzing_. They needed to find out Flemmings’ business and Redcliff’s relationship with the Scythe. If they can legally stop Flemmings, the plans for the explosion will be discovered. If they legally stop Redcliff, they can put an end to a potential major backer of the syndicate. The Phantom Scythe members were invited to a private reception in a room somewhere in the chateau. If they were lucky, they might also discover the identity of the messenger and the 7th apostle.

_Waltzing_. They needed to avoid any suspicions. They had to steer clear of any potential danger. Their identities could easily be exposed with one wrong move.

_Waltzing_. They needed to steer clear of the Whites, however painful it was going to be for Kieran. He hasn’t seen them in ten years. An hour of talking won’t recover a decade lost, unless they succeed in their cause.

_To take down the Phantom Scythe_.

As they danced, Lauren profiled each and every person on the ballroom. Businessmen, elites, noblemen. They all danced around them, blissfully unaware of the darkness creeping in the shadows.

_Or was this all a façade_ , and this bright room was actually a den of sinners in hell’s fire? The myriad of dancers waltzed around them, all in colourful clothes, their faces hidden and their truths obscured behind masks.

_Everyone was a suspect. Everyone was a potential target._

A few more steps of dancing, and she saw him, their prey for tonight. Ryan Flemmings was standing by the window, observing the crowd. Lauren gracefully pulled Kieran, angling herself so that the man will see her.

With every new step, she made sure to show her exposed leg, capturing the interest of Flemmings.

Lauren had enough confidence in her sex appeal, but what really commanded the men in her presence were her eyes. So she made sure to come in contact with Flemmings' eyes, flashing her own golden orbs at him, just for a millisecond, enough to invite him to come over.

Kieran chuckled darkly. “ **I didn’t know that you were a deviant seductress** , _officer_. I hope you won’t need to sell that body of yours to collect information.”

Behind his veiled mask, she could feel Kieran eyeing her chest, in the middle of work. How typical. She laughed as she ran a light touch over his bicep.

“You know how good I am with my words,” she purred at the crook of his neck, while still ever so subtly throwing glances at their target. “Find me the private reception, and then maybe I’ll reward you good.”

“Kinky,” he remarked with an amused smile as he saw Flemmings approaching them. “Do try not to flirt too much, darling. I’m quite the possessive type. I might _accidentally_ kill him.”

Lauren scoffed. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Did I lie?”

No. And it made Lauren smirk, just a little bit. They danced a few more steps as they waited for the curtains to rise.

“May I ask this lady for a dance?”

Kieran and Lauren stopped mid step, both smiling knowingly as if they had just shared an inside joke.

_The curtains of the opening act were pulled up_.

“Of course, good sir,” Kieran replied respectfully, tightening his hold on his _beaut_. “Do take care of my darling, dear sir, she’s quite a delicate flower.” Behind the mesh of his mask, his eyes twinkled.

_His delicate little devil in the making._

He let go of her hand. It was time for Lauren to spread her black wings and do what she does best. “I’ll come find you later.”

And with a light kiss on her cheek, he was gone.

Flemmings extended his hand to Lauren. “You have pretty pensive eyes,” he said, bowing before their dance.

Lauren internally gagged. They all say the same thing; they were all shallow and base. But that’s why they were all so easy to manipulate.

“I don’t think I have the pleasure of your name yet,” Flemmings began. He lean Lauren to a slow waltz.

She noted how he wasn’t as talented in dancing as Kieran was.

“You may call me Ms. Sinclair.”

“Ah, the Chief of Police’s niece. Your beauty is quite a legend.”

She refrained from snorting. The man was trying to flatter her, and he wasn’t doing a good job at it.

“ **Thank you** , sir,” she giggled. “May I be acquainted to your name?”

_Waltzing_. “I am Ryan Flemmings. I work as a manager in the Ardhalis National Bank. But I sideline in trading. **Sometimes**.”

Good, he was opening up.

“And how did a person such as yourself get invited into this ball? You must be quite the impressive man?” Men love it when their egos are boosted. They get chatty and lower their guard, just to impress a woman.

Flemmings laughed. “I help the Viscount with some business overseas.”

Oh? Interesting. Then the Viscount cannot be the apostle if his name is easily thrown around.

_Waltzing_. “Oh, **you seem trustworthy then**. What sort of business?”

“Just importing items. **Nothing shady**.”

Ah, of course.

“ **I’m sure it’s all good business, the Viscount is a very good man with amazing projects**.”

“ **Yes, everything he does is for the good of Ardhalis. He would never allow the importation of illegal substances and weapons. Now, we don’t want a repeat of the Allendale Tragedy now, do we?** That would lead to a revolution.”

But why would the Viscount aid in such efforts, when the Redcliffs seem to be the monarchy’s number one supporter?

_Waltzing_. Lauren thought about the Viscount’s latest achievement, the River and Harbor Bill. Were they using this to bypass coast guard and customs checkpoints under the guise of construction materials for the renovation projects?

There was only one harbour in the city of Ardhalis, and it was under Honolulu.

Agenda one, done. _La Lune_ had discovered Flemmings' business deal. They need to find a way to make the authorities probe the operations under the funding of the River and Harbour Act.

“Well, **I’m glad a responsible man like you is aiding a wonderful man like him. You clearly are nothing like those other merchants.** Especially those dreadful ones that were killed in the tower.”

“They were all idiots. I’m better than them,” he said, rolling his eyes. Flemmings’ hand on her waist slowly moved up to feel her under breast. “Perhaps you’d like me to demonstrate my prowess as a superior man?” he offered smugly.

She could have shot Flemmings on the face with his unsolicited touching. But this was an opportunity.

“If you can find us a relatively secret spot,” Lauren flirted back, tapping her fingers on his chest seductively. “Somewhere no one knows. _Just us_ ,” she emphasized with a whisper.

Flemmings smirked. “I know just the place. There’s this room near the private reception,” he proudly said.

_Waltzing_. And he fell for it. _What an easy man to bait._

* * *

Kieran watched from afar, enjoying the smile his dearly beloved had on her face. She was _bona fide_ actress. It seemed like she was getting all the information they needed. Slowly, he walked around, listening in to conversations, looking for anyone who might be affiliated with the Phantom Scythe. But here on the dance floor, no secrets were spilled.

He didn’t have Lauren’s ability to discern facts from lies.

_Time for him to do what he do best._

He began exploring the _château_. The entire ground floor was a series of different ballrooms and parlours, and upstairs would be the function rooms and private suites. He remembered his childhood, in the _Mainéar Bán_ , and an idea struck to him. Perhaps there was a way to get around without getting seen.

He went up the stairs and entered an unguarded room. In parties, there were always a couple of these ready, just in case some people needed privacy.

He tapped the walls of the room until he found it, the hidden passageways.

And all the secrets of this place will belong to _La Lune_.

It was a narrow one meter corridor, with its damp walls made of unrefined cut stone. It was dark, with no lighting at all, lest the tiny peepholes that shine light from the bright indoors. The air was stagnant, foul, and stuffy enough to make some people panic and gag.

But was nothing the fearsome Purple Hyacinth couldn’t handle. He had been through darker, fouler and worse places.

Further, he walked, familiarizing himself with each turn and corner. Down there led to the kitchens and the ballrooms, just ahead were the conference rooms and the library, and up the tight stone staircase were the master suites and the private studies. Every so often, he would stumble to a random wall and see random couples in the middle of coitus.

How tacky.

He would have loved to stay and watch, finding out who’s cheating with whom, and whose wives and husbands were committing adultery, but he should use this time to take a peek at the Viscount’s records first, all free for the taking.

Kieran opened the wall of the Viscount’s private study. He took out a small camera, a little trick he learned from Lauren, and began taking pictures of documents. The Viscount’s papers also had the same red wax seal on the other Scythes’ papers.

On the table were documents with Flemmings' signatures; files about importation of goods, all stamped with the words _TRANSACTION COMPLETED_. There were also drafts of the River and Harbor Bill, with edits from Felipe Sterling.

Just as he theorized. The acquisition indeed wasn’t an accident. It was a ploy orchestrated by the Scythe. Besides, Sterling was the brother in law of an apostle, albeit a dead one. Perhaps _La Lune_ should visit him next.

He moved his attention to a small open box on the desk, which held the mysterious green vials. Some were already taken from the case, and he contemplated taking one for _La Lune_ as well.

Perhaps the Viscount wasn’t an attentive man to count his stock, and would just chalk it up to a miscount. This type of opportunity wasn’t coming again any day soon, so he picked up a vial and slipped it in his coat pocket.

He took out the film from the back of the camera and pocketed it beside the vial. Directly over the balcony of the study was the moat, where he threw the equipment as far away as he could and watched the ripples disturb the once peaceful waters.

Agenda two, done. _La Lune_ had found information linking Viscount Redcliff to Phantom Scythe.

It was time to look for the private reception.

Kieran re-entered the darkness of the secret passage and navigated around some more. After wandering, listening in, and accidentally peeping into more coitus, he finally found it, the place where the private reception will happen: on a conference room on the second level.

The passageway had multiple peepholes, strategically hidden behind mouldings, blended behind frescoed walls, or drilled on permanent furniture. From his vantage point, he can see a 15 x 15 meter salon, where twenty dining sets laid over the U shaped table formation.

Perfect. He checked his pocket watch. It was approximately one hour before the meeting started. Time to save Lauren from Flemmings.

Agenda three, done. _La Lune_ had discovered the location of the private reception.

He exited the secret passageways and was about to make his way to the main ballroom, when on the corner of his eyes, he saw a man; snow white hair, camera on hand, and on his neck, a press ID for _Le Journal_. _Dylan Rosenthal_ , the Scythe’s best information broker.

Kieran carefully followed, seeing just enough of Rosenthal’s coat flap to the left end of the corridor. With stealthy footsteps, he trailed the man, who finally stopped in front of the door where the meeting will be held.

“Really, you aren’t invited to the party, _friend_ ,” Dylan said, turning around. He had a smug look on his face. “In the end, you’re really just a dog.”

Kieran revealed himself, his lips donning a sarcastic grin. “And why is it that there seems to be a gathering of members here, and the poster boy of the Phantom Scythe is not invited?”

Dylan scoffed “You are not relevant to this operation. You have nothing to bring to the table.”

“I’m hurt. Arguably, I’m the most famous of us all.”

“You would never have gotten _anywhere_ without me.”

“Yet here we are.”

“Why are you even here? Did you come to get a glimpse of your mummy and daddy?” he sneered mockingly.

So this bastard also knew about that little piece of information as well. How much did Dylan Rosenthal knew? If it were only that easy to make him talk, but that would be just as hard as trying to assassinate Belladonna Davenport. Kieran retained the smile on his lips, dedicated to irritating the _information broker_. “No, I came here as the date of Lauren Sinclair.”

_Back off_.

Dylan’s grip on the door handle visibly tightened as a murderous aura overcame his face. He ran and tackled Kieran, pinning him on the wall. Moonlight fell over the two men, their faces inches away as they stayed in this position in tense silence.

With a mocking smile, Kieran continued, “What is she even to you? Are you some creepy ass stalker? I wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case, given _the nature of your work._ ”

“Don’t you dare corrupt her, you disgusting piece of shit.”

_Too late_. He sinisterly grinned as he leered condescendingly through his meshed mask. “Now don’t act so high and mighty, we both know you’ve sunk lower than me. Besides, what is it to you if _fuck her_? _Corrupt her_? _Involve her_ in all this? In the end, she is just a mission to collect more information.”

The intention of his remarks were pure lies on his part, but the other man didn’t know that. Dylan gripped Kieran’s coat tighter, anger radiating from him.

“She is the sweetest, the loveliest girl in this entire world, and you don’t deserve her,” he growled threateningly.

_Touché_. It was not a statement where he needed to rebut. However, the simple fact remained.

“She is mine. _Back the fuck off_. Or I will murder you and mail your filthy head to your father’s grave.”

“I _will_ kill you to protect her.”

Kieran laughed at the desperation and anger in Dylan’s voice.

_Back the fuck off from my Lauren._

“Meddling with the Hyacinth’s orders _again_ now, are we? Or do you want your entire hand cut off this time? Don’t you fucking touch her. She’s my target, and mine alone. Does she even know your name?”

“She’s my-”

They were interrupted by a slow clap and a soft giggle. “How petty and childish, arguing over a girl.”

Belladonna Davenport, the viper assassin. As expected, she was here as well.

“Let go of Kieran, Dylan,” she said with commanding tone. Her voice was strong and sweet, as if they were coated with pure honey instead of deadly poison.

Dylan begrudgingly let go of Kieran, shoving him to the wall before doing so.

“What seems to be the problem here?” the viper mused with a smile. “And you are not invited here Kieran.”

“Obviously. I was simply wondering what this gathering was. I accidentally saw my _friend_ Dylan here, and I couldn’t help but try to get my curiosity sated.”

Belladonna inspected Kieran carefully, from top to bottom, her eyes gleaming treacherously. “Dylan, get inside and prep your materials. The Hyacinth and I will have a little discussion first.”

Dylan resentfully went in the room with his eyes still seething with pure anger. Before closing the door, he glanced at Kieran, letting it known to the Hyacinth that his threats were not pure words.

“He’s still a little bit of a brat,” Kieran sighed after Dylan was gone. “He keeps meddling into my missions.”

Belladonna smiled. “This is why he wasn’t fit to become an assassin in the first place. Had he not… fallen to his urges, he wouldn’t have lost his finger.”

Kieran rolled his eyes and shrugged. “Do me a favour and control that boy, since he’s part of your little operation.”

The viper chuckled lightly.

“So quick to throw your old _friends_ away, Kieran, or have you been enjoying your posh new whore?”

He should kill her for that remark, but he just shrugged his shoulders. “Oh, I enjoy her a lot. And again, I find the need to remind a fellow assassin, don’t meddle into my assignments.”

“Of course, I’m a professional, unlike the boy. I even did you a favour and threatened Timmy from touching the Sinclair heiress.”

“Well, isn’t that convenient for me. I assume he banged you up hard after to release his frustrations?” he chuckled. It was not a secret to him what happened behind Sake and Davenport’s bedroom door. After all, she was the woman who trained him and Dylan all those years ago.

They simply smiled at each other as deadly silence settled between them.

“Do you want to come in?”

Belladonna started to walk towards him, her heels clacking on the cold stone floor.

“Is that an invitation?” he responded with easy glee. If that was an option, then there was no reason to turn it down.

“No.” She closed the distance between them as her crimson eyes eyed him dangerously.

Pity. This could have been easier.

“And is messenger coming?”

“No.”

“The 7th?”

“You know as much as I do that he never attends these things.” She began to reach out to his chest.

Where he had carefully placed the vial and the film.

“Then I’m not really interested.” Kieran grabbed her wrist and pushed Belladonna to the wall.

Agenda four, failed. The apostle and the messenger weren’t coming.

“Aren’t you even a bit curious what the apostle have in store for us?” she challenged him in a thick voice as she licked her lips.

“I’ll be lying if I say I wasn’t interested. But don’t touch me,” he growled threateningly in a low voice. “As you heard, I came here as someone’s date.”

“Indeed, I heard. It’s quite an interesting mission, especially for a man of your stature. Makes me curious if you did something wrong.”

Kieran laughed darkly. “Dear Bella, you know I have a perfect track record. The Leader will never get rid of me.”

Her eyes gleamed. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

He heard a couple of footsteps turn around the corner. More of the Scythe were coming. This would be a good opportunity to see who they were and assert his dominance as the Hyacinth.

“Oh, Davenport,” a voice said.

Kieran turned his head around to see Flemmings, his hands all over the body of his dearly beloved.

He immediately let go of Belladonna’s wrist and straightened himself. He saw Belladonna throw a look of pure loft at Flemmings, who immediately showed regret on his face.

Kieran shook his head inwardly. Flemmings just dug his own grave. He shouldn’t be bringing outsiders too close to the meeting room. On the same note, he should applaud Lauren for manipulating him to do so.

“There you are, darling,” Kieran said daintily, offering his hand to her. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

He could see some level of anger on Lauren’s eyes. _Was she jealous? How cute._

“Who is she?” Lauren asked, her voice rising as she pointed at the pink haired assassin. He could see through her act, but to the snakes around them, she was a jealous lover. After all, in the eyes of the Scythe, it should look like he was just toying with her.

“ **Just an old friend.** And you don’t need to get testy with me, darling, when you’ve been letting that _dead man_ touch you.”

Flemmings audibly gulped as Kieran flashed him a cruel smile. “Now, can I have my lady back, _please,_ ” he addressed the man, whose face hardened as he gritted his teeth.

She huffed and pushed Flemmings hand away. “Then I’ll be going now Mr. Flemmings. Have a good night.”

Kieran looked back at Belladonna, who crossed her arms and watched the exchange with amusement. With a final look, he mouthed at her a threat.

_Don’t meddle with my affairs._

Lauren took Kieran’s arm and they turned back to the corridor, away from the private reception. On their faces were fierce, satisfied smiles. _La Lune_ ’s performance for act one was superb.

The devils were ready for act two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, its too long. How am I doing with this fic? I really want to know what you all think of the plot, including the twists and details, and the character developments. From Impasse to here. Please leave a comment ♥
> 
> \---
> 
> All characters of Purple Hyacinth belong to [Sophism](https://www.instagram.com/deadsophism/?hl=en) and [Ephemerys](https://www.instagram.com/ephemerys_ph/?hl=en).  
>    
> [Read Purple Hyacinth on Webtoons](https://www.webtoons.com/en/mystery/purple-hyacinth/list?title_no=1621&page=1)
> 
> [Official Purple Hyacinth Discord](https://discord.gg/DfkfTxD)


	8. Repeated Repertoire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this was how everyone was going to play. A little game of deception, a little contest of lies. And she, the lady who can hear the mendacity of every word let loose on the world, will be the arbiter of this match.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OST while reading: [MAGICAL WALTZ MUSIC - DARK MASQUERADE](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JDEjp5O5uWE) by [Ean Grimm & the Fiechters](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCwF4bAx_W482_AQu-mv1vWg).
> 
> _Loop the music ♥_

They had enough time for an interlude before the grand spectacle of act two began.

_Forty five minutes left._

“Didn’t know you were so close,” Lauren said in a bored tone, side glancing at her date. She leaned her back to the stone parapet, observing the indoor festivities with watchful eyes. “Seems like you go way back.”

She sipped her _pinot noir_ , savouring the fruity taste on her tongue after putting the glass down. They were on the terrace, enjoying their wine, as they looked down on the expansive land of the Redcliffs. Tonight, the trees were lit with yellow lamps and fairy lights, shining a warm glow on the flowers beneath; creating a dreamy ambiance that looked like a scene from a painting. The moon was brightly shining; casting a dreamy reflection of the sky on the on the surface of the moat by the gardens.

Had their story not been a bleak tale of dark conspiracies riddled in death and blood, they would have looked like the main casts of a fairy tale.

“Are you jealous?” Kieran asked coyly. He leaned down to lightly nip the base of Lauren’s jaw. “Don’t worry _mon amour_ , know that you are my one and only,” he whispered, putting his hands on the stone railing beneath her limbs to trap her between his.

Lauren closed her eyes and hummed in response to the feel of his soft lips trailing down on her neck. She rested a hand over his chest and snaked her hand inside his coat, pulling out the vial and the film before discretely putting them inside the pouch strapped in her inner thigh. With a contented grin, she pushed Kieran and scoffed.

“I could just shoot her in the face instead.”

She would be lying if she said did not feel any sort of annoyance with the pink haired witch. The moment her eyes realized that her man was pinning a different lady in the dark corners of the hallways, she couldn’t deny the blood boiling in her pulse shooting to her head, and was ready to pull out her pistol to threaten the bitch.

She never realized that she was capable of such base jealousy.

Kieran laughed at her response, leaning his arm to the balustrade to stare at the moon. “I won’t expect anything less from you, _officer_. But I’m afraid that won’t work.”

“I know.”

_Belladonna Davenport_.

Lauren picked up the goblet and twirled it at her fingertips. Musing, she took another sip of the wine, finishing her drink. Belladonna Davenport, the viper assassin well versed with poison killing, was Harvey Wood’s murderer. According to Kieran, she was a well-regarded assassin within the Phantom Scythe, trusted by both the leader and the 7th apostle.

The first time Lauren saw her properly was in Carmine Camelia, walking side by side with Tim Sake. Apparently she was also the person who knocked Lauren out in the alleyway, instead of murdering her brutally.

Who were the leader and the 7th apostle? Which one of them knew Lauren? Were they attendees of this ball?

“We go way back. She’s one of the first assassins the Scythe recruited. Her first kill for them was the day after the bombing. A little spectacle to threaten me into following them,” Kieran chuckled, as if remembering a fond memory.

Lauren watched Kieran stare into the distance, reminiscing his past. Hopefully, one day, he would be comfortable enough to share his inner demons with her. But she can afford to wait for him.

They have all the time in the world.

_Forty minutes left._

Lauren continued to play with her empty wine glass, thinking about what they might discover later. Twenty attendees. Belladonna Davenport, Ryan Flemmings, John Redcliff, and seventeen more members of the Scythe. The _Circus Royale_ having a show in town. A massive explosion that will put the Allendale Train Tragedy to shame.

The 7th pushing back his plans.

She looked at the ballroom inside. Which of these dancers were hiding their truths behind their masquerade masks?

She didn’t know when she started to become aware of her gift of discerning lies, but for as long as she remembered, every ball she ever attended was full of adults lying and conspiring.

> “That’s called politics. No one can please everyone.”

> “Well politics sucks.”

That was what a _boy_ told her a long time ago. Who it was, she did not remember any more, but she knew that she was quite fond of him. A pity she can’t recall his face, nor his name; but just echoes of his silhouette as a souvenir of forgotten memories gone by. Warm like the sun, peaceful like the heavens, gentle as a breeze.

The _boy_ in her memories felt like a wonderful spring day and a heartfelt promise of what ifs.

“You have pretty pensive eyes.”

Kieran’s voice shook her from her own daydreaming of days that have become lost in the passing of time.

“ **I hate that word** ,” she remarked, yet she found herself grinning at his comment.

“ _Pensive eyes_ is a compliment,” he winked, grabbing the empty goblet from her hand. “Let me get you some water.”

The whole exchange felt like _déjà vu_. Had they had this conversation before? Lauren racked her brains, but she was quite sure that Kieran had never called her eyes pensive before.

Either way, she didn’t hate the word as much she used to.

_Not if Kieran was the one using it_.

From the distance, Lauren saw her uncle greeting two guests: a man and a woman dressed in elegant clothing. They had the aura of real legacy nobles. And for some reason, they look familiar. Had she _already seen_ them before?

Tristan turned his head and saw Lauren. A smile formed on his lips, and he motioned the couple to follow him to the terrace.

Lauren consciously touched her effects, safely fastened on her leg. She inhaled deeply. _Of course Uncle Tristan will not suspect anything._ For her uncle, she had always been the perfect niece.

“Good evening Uncle Tristan,” Lauren greeted enthusiastically. She smiled at the two guests trailing behind her uncle.

“This is my niece, Lauren. You should remember her.”

The couple smiled amiably at her as she curtsied.

_This was not the best time for this. Thirty five minutes left._

“I don’t know if you remember them, Lauren, but they are good friends of your parents. These are the Duke and Duchess White.”

For a second, she stopped mid curtsy, giving herself an additional moment to close her eyes at the circumstance that presented itself. _They_ said they were going to avoid this interaction at all cost, but now, it has come to them, like a moth fascinated by the spark of the flames.

_Ready to burn._

“You grew up to be quite a beautiful young lady,” Duchess White remarked. Lauren noticed how her turquoise eyes looked strikingly like Kieran’s. “You probably have a lot of suitors.”

Lauren laughed as she saw Kieran at the corner of her eyes. She shook her head subtly, but he just continued to walk towards them.

“No, I just entertain one,” she replied, swatting the air in front of her face in the hopes that Kieran would get the hint.

_The idiot kept walking towards them, smiling like a damned fool._

“Is this suitor a prospect for marriage?” the Duke said with emphasis as he turned to Tristan with an irritated frown. He had the same raven hair that Kieran had.

There was no mistaking it. Kieran White was the spitting image of his parents.

“I’m aware of your implications, Duke,” Tristan said. “And I have no idea how you haven’t caught wind of this issue yet, but I’m sure you’ll be glad that the circumstances arranged itself **without any of us needing to interfere**.”

Whatever they were talking about, Lauren was very much out of the loop. Bad enough that the Whites had a deal with the Scythe in relation to Kieran. But a deal with the Sinclairs regarding her?

“Good evening,” Kieran greeted, approaching from behind Tristan and the Whites.

_If she could just shoot that happy smile off his face._ _Thirty minutes left._

“Ah, perfect timing, boy. This is Kieran White, Lauren’s suitor. Kieran, these are Duke White and Duchess White.”

Lauren could see the exact moment Kieran’s face fell upon realizing who the new company gracing their presence were.

“Thank you for the water, _darling_ ,” she immediately said, taking the glass from his hand. She pressed a finger on his pulse when she took her drink.

Kieran recovered and offered his hand to the duke. “I’m glad to meet your acquaintance, sir, madam,” he said, his devilish charm amping up a thousand notches.

_If she could just facepalm then and there._

The Duke raised an eyebrow, glancing at his wife, before taking Kieran’s hand and shaking it. “Likewise.”

“You grew up to be a fine young man,” the Duchess began with a knowing smile.

“ **Indeed I did**. I have my parents to thank for my foundations.”

_So this was how everyone was going to play? A little game of deception, a little contest of lies._ And she, the lady who can hear the mendacity of every word let loose into the world, will be the arbiter of this match.

_Twenty five minutes left._

“I see, so this is how we are playing, Tristan,” the Duke said. The tensions were rising even though everyone was just smiling. “This is a very dangerous game you want to play.”

Whatever was going on between her uncle and the Duke? A small flame dabbed Lauren’s mind, but she quickly extinguished it before it further plagued her mind.

There was no way her venerable uncle, Chief of Police Tristan Sinclair, was a member of the Phantom Scythe.

_Was there?_

_No. Never._

He was her heaven sent, the man who raised her since she was ten. The selfless relative who adopted her when her parents left this world for the next. He had been nothing but kind, generous, and loving to her.

For Lauren, he had always been the perfect uncle.

_He cannot possibly be allied to the darkness creeping in the shadows._

Everyone was a suspect. Everyone was a potential target.

_No. Never._

_But…_

_Maybe_. She should stop being blind and open her eyes to more possibilities.

But she was not ready.

“Why don’t we eat dinner together?” Duchess White exclaimed, her turquoise eyes sparkling as she eyed her estranged son with delight.

Lauren pushed away the thoughts creeping to her head. There was no reason to distrust her Uncle Tristan. On a personal level, he was probably the least suspicious person invited to this ball.

“Yes, we should eat dinner,” she replied with a smile. _Twenty four minutes left._ She took Kieran’s arm as they all walked to a private parlour. With subtle looks, they agreed to maximize the situation at hand.

There was something happening here that might just be as important as the private reception above.

During dinner, Lauren once again narrated her false story on how the two of them met.

“Are you sure you didn’t omit anything?” Tristan asked with zeal, his eyes gleaming.

Her heart skipped a beat at his question. Was he suspecting something? “ **Of course not, uncle**.”

_Ten minutes left_.

She observed how the Whites interacted with her uncle. On the surface, they were cordial and agreeable, but Lauren can hear lies.

Even if the only performers at this table were her and Kieran, there was no doubt that everyone else around them were just as accomplished in acting, masking their truths behind half meant sentences and a volley of questions to answer another questions.

“How is the business with the _Phantom Scythe_?” the Duke asked, his dark eyes dancing.

“The usual,” Tristan replied simply. “Especially the Purple Hyacinth. Slippery bastard doesn’t leave traces. Still as good as ever.”

Under the table, Kieran’s hand tightened around Lauren’s. The Duchess pursed her lips before a smug smile appeared on her face. She picked up a snapdragon flower from the centrepiece and started plucking its petals, one by one.

“ _Amazing_ how you keep your Chief of Police position even if _you haven’t made progress in ten years._ ”

> “ _That’s called politics. No one can please everyone._ ”

As much as Lauren was offended for Tristan’s sake, what the Duchess had stated was nothing short of the truth. In retrospect, the police force was quite pathetic regarding that matter. Ten years, and all investigations regarding the Scythe led to nowhere. Like how all her investigations regarding the Allendale Train Tragedy led to nowhere.

_Just like how either the 7_ _th_ _apostle or the Leader wanted it_.

Played like a fool.

“And now you even have this Lune problem,” she continued. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you, Dakan, and the rest of you are either amazing, or complete idiots. _L’incompétence_.”

_Dakan Rhymsel_? The king’s right hand man?

Tristan lifted his eyes and looked straight at the Duchess, a look of confident assurance emanating from his eyes. “Bold of you to not include yourselves. Are you implying anything, Duchess White?”

The Duchess sipped her tea, casting a shaded look at the Chief of Police.

“ **Nothing of importance** _,_ ” she simply replied.

“I see.”

_One minutes left_.

“Forgive my wife, Tristan. You know she gets upset whenever the Purple Hyacinth is mentioned _that way_. Please refrain from parading your clout. You as much as I know you don’t have as much.”

Tristan returned to his usual smile. “Of course.”

_Everyone was a suspect. Everyone was a potential target._

_And everyone on this table was acting suspicious._

The discussion shifted to the life story of Kieran White. There was an amused look on the Duke’s and the Duchess’ face as Kieran proceeded to present his lies about a humble birth and honest living. On his face was his façade of perfected deception; on his voice, no traces of deceit, yet to her ears, he sounded like he was presenting a fantastic tale weaved from a web of lies.

_Fifteen minutes late._

She looked at Kieran, who looked at his pocket watch. They should really get going. An hour of talking won’t recover a decade lost, unless they succeed in their cause.

Besides, there was no way to go deeper into this conversation. On this dinner table, no secrets were spilled.

But there were crumbs of the truth that they can sweep up and gather.

_The Whites had a deal with the Scythe. The Sinclairs had a deal with the Whites. Tristan and the Whites were at odds with each other. And Dakan Rhymsel was involved, somehow._

And somewhere on the second floor, a private reception of Phantom Scythes members was happening.

Whether this information will prove useful, _La Lune_ will find out in the future. But for now, it was time to end this intermission.

Lauren felt Kieran run a hand on her leg, gently tapping the dagger safely strapped on her inner thigh.

“Uncle, Duke, Duchess, would it be alright if me and Kieran go and **enjoy the party some more?** ” she asked, wearing the sweetest smile she possibly can.

“Of course,” the adults said.

With that, they were excused from the table.

“They still get along so well.”

_Still_?

“I knew they would make a fine couple once they grew older, don’t you agree?” she heard, before finally exiting the parlour. “We don’t know what game you’re playing, Tristan, because you know that…”

Those words might have been said in passing, or there might have been more meaning to them. But to Lauren Sinclair, it didn’t matter as of the moment. They had other things to worry about.

Their interlude was done.

_It was time to pull the curtains up for act two of La Lune._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all haven't skipped [Forgotten Fragments](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24130114).  
> SHADE. SHADE EVERYWHERE.
> 
> [Deja Vu](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tNF05-A1xY0) by [Dave Rogers](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCiipJgscQRIxaugbhmOsxRA).
> 
> \---
> 
> All characters of Purple Hyacinth belong to [Sophism](https://www.instagram.com/deadsophism/?hl=en) and [Ephemerys](https://www.instagram.com/ephemerys_ph/?hl=en).
> 
> [Read Purple Hyacinth on Webtoons](https://www.webtoons.com/en/mystery/purple-hyacinth/list?title_no=1621&page=1)
> 
> [Official Purple Hyacinth Discord](https://discord.gg/DfkfTxD)


	9. Private Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But he had no evidence. It was all just a theory, albeit a very plausible one. Lauren would literally shoot him in the head if he presented this assumption to her with no facts backing him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Blood, poisoning, gore. Capri sunned.
> 
> OST Part 1 while reading: [大塚 愛 / プラネタリウム/PLANETARIUM](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uwmFStRcrfA) by Ai Otsuka.
> 
> OST Part 2 while reading: [DARK VAMPIRE MUSIC - TRUE POWER WITHIN](https://youtu.be/2W0yhmxS6Us?list=PLOPeUVp5r9VYZCsBS_NB3R83JlgsnCCvF) by [ Peter Gundry](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCCVPA8UIeyG-UIh-GoOCW-g).
> 
> _Loop the music ♥_

♪♫ [Part 1](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uwmFStRcrfA) ♫♪

“Are you okay?”

Kieran grabbed a strawberry pastry from a passing waiter and unceremoniously shoved it into in his mouth. _Why wouldn’t he be okay?_ Lauren was ridiculous for worrying about him. He got this under control.

Cool, cool, cool.

“ **Of course, darling, I’m very much fine,** ” he finally replied with a grin, taking an apple from the buffet table they just passed by.

“Then stop eating,” Lauren scolded with a sigh as she snatched his fruit and put it down a random table.

Perhaps the encounter earlier did make him a lot more fidgety than usual. For the first time in over a decade, he had seen his parents, not only alive and well, but also devoid of emotion for their estranged son. Granted, they were all actors in this grand scheme of things, _blackmailed into submission_ by the Phantom Scythe.

_But it still hurt_. They went up the stairs.

Kieran’s mind wandered to his innocent past. He was his parents’ only child, their scion, the heir to the dukedom of House White; _Marquess Kieran White_. For so long, they had told him that he was special. “You were born to lead a blessed and bountiful life,” they had always said. “You were born to go down in history as the greatest hero of Ardhalis.”

But they also claimed that they will always keep him from harm as long as he was alive.

_It still hurt_. They walked towards the empty room.

He had this scenario played in his mind over a million times during the past few years. A grandiose party welcoming him back from exile. Streamers thrown in the air and flowers handed to him upon his arrival. Heartfelt kisses, warm hugs, and tears of joy streaming down from their faces.

_The dramatic return of the prodigal son to the manor_.

Not a candid reunion riddled with casual ignorance, deceit, and obvious fabrication.

Odd. He massaged his chest. He could still feel the stinging pain that had been hurting his heart since earlier. Usually, he endured; he had long learned to desensitize himself from all melancholic emotions. Clearly, he had lost his edge if such a trivial matter can shake his resolve and concentration.

_It still hurt_. They closed the door behind them.

“Hey.”

Lauren touched his chest, resting her hand over his rapidly beating heart. She trailed her hand to his face and removed his mask, looking straight into him with such loving eyes. The way she focused on him made his heart ache more. Gently, she removed the single tear that formed on the corner of his eyes as she cupped his cheek and kissed his lips.

That’s right. Ever since his alliance with Lauren, he had been slowly regaining some form of humanity, like a small crack of pure light breaking into the depths of his pitch black soul. He had held on to the void of the night sky for so long, that the he had forgotten the feel of the warmth of the sun.

He returned her affections, thankful for her existence in his life.

_Twenty minutes late. It still hurt._

But not as much any more.

They should really be going, but they both felt the needed urgency of physical contact between them.

His kisses became deeper and hungrier, more impetuous after each passing second. If only they can afford to do this tonight.

_Twenty two minutes late. It doesn’t hurt as much any more._

Kieran pulled out from their passionate canoodling.

“Don’t worry about me, _mon amour_ ,” he closed his eyes as he smiled, touching her cheeks and resting his forehead on hers.

Now was not the time to engage in irrelevant things such as his petty sentiments in life. He did not need to struggle between being Kieran White and being the Purple Hyacinth. All he needed was the moon to shine over the darkness of his soul.

She was his hopes, his dreams, and his wishes. She was his partner, his friend, his companion, and so much more. She was the sun, the goddess who descended from the heavens to the earth to join him on the road under the endless black night.

And together, they were the devils of _La Lune._

They have all the time in the world.

_Twenty five minutes late._

Hand in hand, they descended to the depths of the earth, behind the walls of the château, deeper and closer to the truth. All the secrets of this place will belong to them.

Including those from the private reception that the members of the Phantom Scythe held.

* * *

♪♫ [Part 2](https://youtu.be/2W0yhmxS6Us?list=PLOPeUVp5r9VYZCsBS_NB3R83JlgsnCCvF) ♫♪

There were nineteen people in the salon. For Kieran, it was easy to spot who was missing. Dylan Rosenthal, the little bastard, was no longer in the room.

In his mind, he weighed the pros and cons. _Pros_ : Lauren wouldn’t see the rascal. After all, he still didn’t know what sort of relationship his dearly beloved and his _friend_ have, so it was in his best interest to delay their inevitable meeting for as long as possible.

_Cons_ : He was the Scythe’s best information broker for a while now. Whatever he presented to the other nineteen attendees must have been something of consequential gravity. But it’s nothing that won’t be discussed after his departure for his day job duties as the official photographer covering the event for _Le Journal_.

Being thirty minutes late proved to be a win-win for Kieran.

He looked at Lauren, who had a very confused look on her face. Through the strands of light shining from indoors, he could see her eyebrows furrowed, an expression of pure disbelief creeping up her face.

“Mr. Evans?” she hissed at Kieran.

Kieran peered into a peephole. He saw some familiar faces. The Viscount John Redcliff, Belladonna Davenport, Ryan Flemmings.

And yes, Mr. Evans, the cheating husband. The man who had the unfortunate title of being Lauren’s last disastrous date. What was an unintelligent slime like him doing here?

Wait.

He remembered that day at the coffee shop. He was there to observe Chris Evans of the Evans Company. And long before that, a different man, in a theatre. Then in a museum. The list went longer. It was like routine to him, being given random people to observe and shadow, that he hadn’t quite thought about it. But she was always there, Officer Lauren Sinclair, the little girl he once befriended long ago. For so long, he had to listen to her failing dates. He was always amused at the fate that once again, allowed him to be testament to her awful meetings. Like a shadow sitting behind a light, he had always observed her from the side lines.

Those tailing missions were never for Evans, nor for the numerous men he was tasked to observe. It was never destiny, but a calculated ploy. It was for him to observe her. It was for him to get to know her.

_Wait._

His mind was suddenly hit by a conspiracy theory that had little to no basis, yet full of purely circumstantial coincidence.

Tristan Sinclair. Chief of Police, Lauren’s uncle. Admittedly, he was acting suspicious at the dinner table, but was such a high ranking official who headed the hunt against the Scythe be a member of the opposition?

The Sinclairs had a deal with the Whites. Tristan and the Whites were at odds with each other. Lauren has a protector within the Scythe, who ordered that she must be kept safe from harm.

> “Don’t you worry sir, I will always keep Lauren safe.”

> “That’s exactly what I’m counting on.”

Kieran pressed his lips together.

Adding the fact that he got in as an archivist under someone’s recommendation from the Police department, the circumstances all added up.

But he had no evidence. It was all just a theory, albeit a very plausible one. Lauren would literally shoot him in the head if he presented this assumption to her with no facts backing him.

But if Tristan was an apostle, what was he gaining with all _this_? What would be the point of assigning him to watch his niece, going through extreme lengths just to make sure they meet?

> “But I’m sure you’ll be glad that the circumstances arranged itself without any of us needing to interfere.”

What was there to gain with these arrangements? But more importantly, does he know about who _La Lune_ were?

Was he the 7th apostle, who was now working with Belladonna? Was that why she didn’t kill Lauren?

If so, was he also in charge of the weapons and chemical importations? Was he in charge of the explosion Tim Sake had in store, the one that will put the Allendale Train tragedy to shame?

Wouldn’t that be counter-intuitive, since he was Chief of Police? Or was that just a guise for everything?

His trail of thoughts came to a halt when Belladonna whipped out her golden knife and slashed the throat of Ryan Flemmings.

Kieran had to cover Lauren’s mouth to minimise the sound of her gasp at the traumatizing sight before them.

“Davenpo-” Flemmings gagged, grasping his neck. Blood began spurting from his mouth, out of his ruptured vein, dripping down his eyes, nose and ears. After a second of convulsion, his discoloured body slumped down the carpeted floor.

It was truly a horrific sight. Everyone on the dinner table averted their eyes, with the youngest, Evans, running to the corner of the room to hurl his vomit.

A smile appeared on Bella’s lips. She used her boot to slightly move Flemming’s bloody face, inspecting the slit with a sadistic grin on her face. “Isn’t the golden viper venom interesting?” she said sweetly to the quiet audience.

Kieran reckoned that Flemmings was going to die due to his stupidity either way, but he did not expect this spectacle tonight. He pulled Lauren tightly to his chest, still in shock at the first live death she ever witnessed before her very eyes. He remembered how he reacted when he first witnessed torture and murder, and Lauren was definitely handling it better than his 14 year old self.

“You just spilled blood on my rug,” the Viscount said haughtily. “Tell us why you had to kill him.”

“The 7th would have ordered his death sooner or later, for reasons you all don’t need to know,” she smiled, twirling her dagger before sheathing it back.

“The 7th? Bah! Why did the operation move?! I had put a lot to accommodate everything on this ball and the _Circus Royal_ ’s _show_. Wasted!”

“There were supposed to be _fireworks_ today, but here we are, discussing more business when now should have been the start of something new.”

“Now we don’t have a point person. The 5 _th_ will be angry that you killed one of his boys. We just borrowed him.”

Interesting. So Flemmings originally worked for the 5th apostle? The political dynamics of the Scythe was still something mysterious to him.

“First of all, he came to us of his own free will, second, there is still a matter of the sudden vacancy.”

“Who will now handle the importations. That _woman_ killed Flemmings, what now?” Evans quipped in a berating tone, wiping his mouth using the sleeves of his coat after finally getting back to his chair. He was obviously trying to get on the good side of the Viscount, failing to see that in that room, Belladonna Davenport held the most authority over all of them and their petty little lives.

She leered at Evans with clear disdain, before sitting back down on her seat.

“Are you okay. Lauren?” Kieran whispered to her ear, careful not to make even the slightest echo against the damp stone walls of the passageway.

After five heavy breaths, she nodded. He knew what she was thinking. This was how the spy from the 11th patrol unit died. This was how she almost died in the alleyway. This was how assassins of the Phantom Scythe operated.

_Cold. Brutal. Without conscience._

“The Hawkes Enterprise can handle it,” a man said. It was Felipe Sterling, CEO of Honolulu. “Either way, the first phase is done. **Why we are pushing back, we don’t know.** But please trust the 7th **as I do.** ”

The Viscount grimaced. “I’d take Josephine’s word over yours. But as always, she skipped out of this meeting. You haven’t even succeeded in dragging her back to us.”

Lauren’s head snapped up. They were talking about William’s mother. From what Kieran had gathered, Lauren was quite close to Will and his family, growing up. She also told him of her childhood friend’s problems at home. _Problems he refused to share to anyone._

Did William know of his family’s involvement with the Scythe? That they remained involved, even after the death of the original 13th apostle.

Sterling frowned. “Well, whose great idea was it to hook her with _that_? She’s gone mad, that woman. I’ve been handling everything for the 13th for quite some time now.”

_Who? Was there another apostle involved in the 7_ _th_ _’s operations? Who replaced Stefan Hawkes?_

“Then how do you want to do this?”

“If you would all allow me to recruit my nephew into this.”

Kieran’s eyes widened. They intend to drag the Lieutenant into this mess? That would result to his untimely death. William was not the sort of man to engage in corruption and crimes against the state, and his stubborn refusal will only lead him to being targeted by an assigned assassin from the Scythe.

How inconvenient.

“As long as you can fully turn him to our cause, then why not.”

“Be prepared for a death in the family if he threatens to out you. I heard that he is a reputable ranked officer from the police. We don’t want ideal young minds penetrating our little group. Unless of course, if he’s anything like his father.”

“Oh, I assure you, they’re more similar than the boy thinks so. And you all know how promising his father was to our cause. Of course, I’ll arrange for that,” he said with delight. “With the right motivations, William can be pushed to be as goal driven as his father.”

“Leash him good. If what you say is true, he might be as overbearing as his father.”

“Shame, if only Stefan did not overstep his boundaries.”

Kieran moved his hand to hold Lauren’s. She was clenching her fist. Kieran had already half expected this, but how can Lauren face his childhood friend after this? To her, the Hawkes were like a second family.

_Will he be threatened? Blackmailed? Or will he willingly join them?_

They both didn’t know if William will answer this opportunity or chose to be damned.

“August 22 will be the new schedule of _Operation Fireworks_.”

The members of the Scythe continued to discuss things they already knew. Kieran made note of each and every additional names that popped out.

“This is making me impatient.”

“Are the permits being processed on time?”

“Yes, the Ridgeway brothers are handling it this time. They got a bit set backed because their clients all died in the tower, but nothing they can’t handle.”

“How about the doctors?”

“The 12th will handle that.”

Papers were signed, envelopes were swapped, hands were shook, and the Phantom Scythe’s private reception came to a close, leaving the bloody corpse of Ryan Flemmings alone on the cold, dark, room.

There were no rounds of applause nor standing ovations. Just eerie silence marking the end of _La Lune_ ’s act two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize to everyone who wants to protect William.  
> Also, capri sunned Flemmings for everyone!
> 
> \---
> 
> All characters of Purple Hyacinth belong to [Sophism](https://www.instagram.com/deadsophism/?hl=en) and [Ephemerys](https://www.instagram.com/ephemerys_ph/?hl=en).
> 
> [Read Purple Hyacinth on Webtoons](https://www.webtoons.com/en/mystery/purple-hyacinth/list?title_no=1621&page=1)
> 
> [Official Purple Hyacinth Discord](https://discord.gg/DfkfTxD)


	10. Honourable Heroes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tonight, the moon shined bright.
> 
> “I hope they succeed. La Lune, that’s what they are called. They are the heroes that Ardhalis needs, but not the one it deserves.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OST while reading: [MOTION](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i7vtXsI5wJU) by [Marika Takeuchi](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCwO4nhIc41gJP_54F1zTNzA).
> 
> _Loop the music ♥_

The Ardhalis Veterans Memorial was a large park of lush green grass and white crosses. It was a peaceful night, with just the soft sound of the light breeze gently brushing the leaves. In the middle of the expansive grounds, in front of an old tombstone, was a lone visitor silently standing under the moonlight.

On her hand was her prized golden pocket watch, which she continued to fiddle between her fingers. Her gaze was long and deep, before she finally sighed and said, “Hey sis. It’s me, your sister Kym.”

Kym Ladell, the eccentric sergeant of the 11th precinct’s patrol unit. During regular days, she was a chaotic force to be reckoned with, spouting poetic lines and eating watermelon, _living for the sole purpose of irritating the stringent Lieutenant William Hawkes_.

Not tonight. She sat down on the grass. Today was supposed to be the birthday of her sister.

_Had she not died._

* * *

_November 13, xx17_

_Allendale Train Tragedy. This was what that horrific event was dubbed, just hours after the bombing. And Le Journal, the newly debuted paper, had just released a special midday edition to inform the entire city of this incident._

TERRORIST SYNDICATE PHANTOM SCYTHE CLAIMS RESPONSIBILITY FOR THE ALLENDALE TRAIN TRAGEDY

_Everybody was required to stay indoors. Sirens wailed outside the streets, and everyone caught outdoors were detained and questioned._

_“Do you really have to go out, sis?” the little 11 year old cried, clinging at the pants of her older sister. The girl did not understand the noise outside. There were screaming, wailing, and shouting._

_People kept on begging for the return of their loved ones._

_The sister laughed, ruffling the girl’s hair._

_“Stay here with mama and papa,” she grinned. “They’ll take care of you.”_

_The girl pouted and clung to her sister’s uniform. “But you give me watermelons! Mama said I can’t have them as long as she’s here.”_

_All these deaths haunting the city, and this little girl remained innocent._

_The sister winked as she produced a watermelon on her hand. It may have been a simple sleight of hand trick, but to the girl, it was magic._

_“Wow, you really are like a wizard! Teach me how to make magic watermelons!”_

_“I rather fancy myself as a superhero, Kym,” she said as she put on her boots. “Maybe just a hero, since I don’t have super powers.”_

_The girl munched her watermelon as she stared at her sister. “Hero? Like in the comics? The ones who fly around and save people?”_

_The sister pinched the girl’s nose. “Exactly. That’s why I became a police officer; to help those in need.”_

_“Oh, my favourite one is the immortal alien who gets powers from the yellow sun!”_

_“Pretty sure he’s not immortal. Or is he? Eh. They add too much to the continuity nowadays. Heroes die too, and your favourite one can die with the right amount of kryptonite. Me? I’m just your friendly neighbour police hero.”_

_“Then I want to be a police too. Cuz you’re my hero!” the girl said, happily grabbing out her sister’s gun from the dresser. She started to aim and wave the gun in the air. “Bang, bang, bang!”_

_“Hey! Be careful!” the sister cried, grabbing the barrel. “Good thing it’s not loaded. You don’t fire aimlessly, Kym. Being responsible for a person’s death is not an easy burden to carry.”_

_“Don’t heroes kill bad guys?”_

_“No. Heroes need to abide by strong rules and never let them go.”_

_The sister checked her golden pocket watch._

_“Do you really have to go, sis?”_

_“Yeah, time is running faster today. It was supposed to be my day off, but Hermann will have my head if I dally some more.”_

_“Your boss is a grouch.”_

_The sister laughed. “Well, that grouch was kind enough to write your hero the recommendation letter needed for the lieutenant promotion.”_

_She safely placed her pocket watch inside her uniform. “Welp, gotta go kiddo. Time never turns back, and I’m running late. See you at dinner.”_

_She never came home that night._

* * *

Kym sighed as she laid her back to the ground. Ten years seemed like so long ago, yet these memories remain fresh in her mind. Nothing has changed. The Phantom Scythe was still running around.

The death of her sister meant nothing to the system. Just like how the death of Harvey Wood had become nothing but another unfortunate casualty in this losing war. A decade and more, but Ardhalis was still clouded by an endless dark night.

_La Lune_.

_The heroes of the night._

And now, when there was suddenly a glimmer of hope lighting up from the heavens above, Captain Hermann, wanted _them_ to take it down from the sky and crash it to the ground.

_Lauren Sinclair._

_Her best friend._

Kym had to admit that somewhere in the back of her mind, she was already suspecting Lauren long before being given the mission of spying on her co-workers. From the first time Lune dropped its anonymous letter, Lauren had been acting suspicious.

An outspoken person like her usually had opinions. Yet never once had she said anything to give away what she thought of _La Lune_. Especially on days when suspects were taken in, she had been especially quiet; yet to Kym, her golden eyes shined brighter against the backdrop of her dark eyebags.

“I’m busy tonight.”

“I’m sorry, I have plans.”

“I’m going on a date.”

But she had never told any more disastrous date stories ever since her encounter with poor Mr. Evans. She was even smiling more and more, indirectly proportional to how tired she appeared.

_She looked like she was sleeping more soundly. Guilt free._

Then one day, Kym had actually seen something that confirmed her intuition. It was their day off, and Lauren was on her casual clothes, walking silently with a dark haired adonis of a man by the bridge. And her best friend was _smiling_.

_Smiling?_

Maybe Lauren had really been going out on dates. Kym had sighed wit relief, thankful for this scene.

_Her best friend was not a vigilante criminal._

Until the man suddenly pulled out a maid costume from his bag and handed it to a grimacing Lauren. Was this a kink of theirs?

_No._

Her eagle eye had read some of the words flowing from their lips: _infiltration, investigation, information_.

_Her best friend was a vigilante criminal._

So when Hermann had actually given _them_ the assignment, Kym was hell bent on diverting any kind of attention from Lauren.

Her watermelon antics became wilder, her ridiculousness skyrocketed to the roof, all so that William will never suspect Lauren Sinclair.

She had only really realized that the man on the bridge was the new archivist when _they_ accidentally eavesdropped on them in the coffee shop.

> “You know, officer, I am so tired of you ignoring me at the office.”

> “Deal with it. You know it’s part of our original bargain. I could have killed you on your first day at the office, but thank me subordinate, I’m merciful.”

When she had seen the confused look emerging on William’s _gorgeous_ face, Kym knew she had to make him think otherwise. Lieutenant Hawkes was, by no means, a rule breaker. Even if it would hurt his relationship with Lauren, he would have reported this development to Hermann.

Lauren already had a bad track record at the office, and not even her uncle’s position as the Chief of Police will be able to save her from ending behind bars.

_Only to be killed by the Purple Hyacinth once she was stuck and detained._

> “And they’ve been dating even before Kieran became our archivist? Is it a forbidden love?”

That was the narrative she had since stuck to. It was an easy story to get behind, since there was undeniable sexual tension and genuine affection between Lauren and Kieran. Ignoring his first day at work, there was obvious magic between them. From the gentle looks, to the thoughtful drawing, to the passionate dancing, and the heated sparring.

Maybe she did go on dates with her partner in crime.

It was obvious enough for Kym to see that what Lauren had with Kieran was more than just their Lune partnership.

_Her best friend was in love. And her best friend was loved back._

And for better or worse, she was happy for them. Kym would gladly risk her badge to make sure _La Lune_ doesn’t get caught.

_Because her best friend was a hero._

* * *

_November 14, xx17_

_The girl had gone down to eat breakfast, but stopped at the foot of the staircase when she heard unfamiliar voices in the living room._

_She peaked, and saw two police officers._

_So she assumed that they were the friends of her sister, but they whispered in hush gloomy tones, as her parents cried in silence._

_She felt her gut twist, as if she already knew what had happened._

_Impossible. Her sister was a hero._

_“We found her body on Crime Alley in Greychapel.”_

_Heroes were immortal. They don’t die._

_“No, that can’t be,” she said shakily, emerging from behind the wall._

_Her mother gasped, standing up to hug her, but she found herself retreating and running out the door._

_It was impossible. Heroes don’t die._

_She couldn’t hear anything. She couldn’t feel anything. Everything else was a blur as her feet dragged her to the scene of the crime._

_Yellow police tape, officers walking. And behind them, she could see it, her sister’s pocket watch._

_With her nimble stature, she slipped past the barricade and ran to grab the memento._

_But when she turned to the corner, her world came crashing down._

_Heroes don’t die._

_Yet there her sister was, lifeless. Her open eyes cried blood, her nose and ears dripped blood. There were multiple stab wounds and signs of torture on her body, yet one thing stood out: the darkened slit at the side of her corroded throat._

_The girl stumbled and fell back, screaming._

_“Why? But heroes don’t die?!”_

_Was here no justice for the good and righteous in this world?_

* * *

Kym sat up and produced a watermelon from her pockets. “Leaving this here for you, sis,” she said, laying the slice respectfully before the tombstone.

She flicked open the pocket watch and traced the elegant letters engraved on the side. _D.L._

_01:24:48_.

“You know, recently, new heroes popped up in town,” she smiled sadly, raising her eyes to the night sky. She sighed as she remembered the mission the captain gave her and William. “They’re closer to the caped crusader slash world’s greatest detective; very different compared to my favourite sun absorbing alien, or your favourite friendly neighborhood web crawler.”

Tonight, the moon shined bright.

“I hope they succeed. _La Lune_ , that’s what they are called. They are the heroes that Ardhalis needs, but not the one it deserves.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A callback to [Operation Stakeout](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23836363/chapters/57279340).  
> And thus we begin with sad Kym. Y'all know how it goes.  
> Sad Kym noises :(
> 
> \---
> 
> All characters of Purple Hyacinth belong to [Sophism](https://www.instagram.com/deadsophism/?hl=en) and [Ephemerys](https://www.instagram.com/ephemerys_ph/?hl=en).
> 
> [Read Purple Hyacinth on Webtoons](https://www.webtoons.com/en/mystery/purple-hyacinth/list?title_no=1621&page=1)
> 
> [Official Purple Hyacinth Discord](https://discord.gg/DfkfTxD)


	11. Obtrusive Offer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How much of these crimes were happening under his watch? What a pathetic lieutenant he was. The captain ordered him to deliver La Lune to justice, not join the Phantom Scythe.
> 
> These people were the real deal. They weren’t just corrupt businessmen.
> 
> They were demons walking on broad daylight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OST while reading: [THEY ARE HERE](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SqcyVlpIIxI&list=PLCF1B9315500F5554&index=81) by [Elegy Music](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCCV-iavVRqk7EC60XGaftZQ).
> 
> _Loop the music ♥_

Lieutenant William Hawkes stared at the two cars parked in front of his mother’s driveway. Both were familiar. One belonged to his uncle, and the other he simply couldn’t remember where from.

He sighed, running a hand through his damp blonde hair. He had just gone from his Tuesday evening jog, and all he really wanted was to hit the showers and rest up. He had already expunged the last of his social energy last night during his shift at the Redcliff’s ball; he shouldn’t be expected to entertain his mother’s guests simply because she was indisposed.

He collected himself, closing his eyes and reciting his mantra in his head before entering. _He’ll be fine._

“Ah, William, just the man we came to see. Welcome back.”

Like the good son that he was, he was going to see this through.

“Uncle, what a pleasant surprise.”

_Lies_.

From the front door, he saw four people gathered at the drawing room. His uncle, cheery and greedy as ever, was sitting beside his sister smoking pipe and drinking vodka. _She was smiling at him._

He was thrown off, since she usually hated and cursed her very own flesh and blood. Her eyes dilated as she shifted her gaze from her son to the two other guests sitting before her.

_Behave._ “Come and sit down with us, _son_.”

And like a hostage to his own sense of duty, he had done so.

William lips pursed when he finally remembered where he saw the other car before. It was already impounded in the precinct once, about a year ago, when _this man_ was named a suspect for the murder of one Mr. Kevin Chow, a prominent backer of the Ardhalis Railway Development movement.

William made a mental rundown of what he knew about the man.

He used to work for the Chow Group as a mining and chemical engineer. Under them, he became a consultant for the Railway Development Authority. Years later, he got his opportunity and became a prominent businessman on his own, engaging in trading.

“Mr. Tim Sake, a pleasure to see you again,” William lied behind a charming smile. He approached and held up a hand to the guest, who received it with an iron grip. Grasping the cold palm of Sake, he felt a chill on his spine, as if a disgusting slime was crawling up his arm.

It didn’t escape him how the man smirked, assessing him from head to toe as if he was checking out a prostitute. Under the condescending gaze of Sake, William felt threatened, yet, hanging onto his pride as a police officer, he stood his ground.

How Sake looked at him left a foul taste in his mouth, as he still has some issues with the guest, from him being the reason of Lauren’s demotion to Kym becoming a huge pain in his ass.

“Lieutenant, good grip you have there. No wonder you were able to punch me good in the bar that day,” he said dangerously, tapping the bandage on his cheek.

William had no recollection of ever decking Tim Sake’s _bald_ head, but if he actually did, it made him feel slightly better than how he was feeling right now.

Pity he couldn’t remember anything from that night.

He took his attention to the pink haired lady sitting beside Sake. “Ms. Bella,” he greeted amiably.

The way she stared at him and licked her lips afterwards made him feel uncomfortable. She looked nothing short of sweet and beautiful, yet her eyes danced maliciously as she smiled at him as a way of greeting.

Why did he feel as if he was suddenly thrown into a den of snakes while in his very own home?

Felipe whistled, clapping his hands at the exchange. “I didn’t expect you to know my associates, young William. Please sit.”

And so he did as he was told, opposite to everyone, on the lone ottoman by the west window. “We had dinner at the Grim Goblin once,” he casually replied to his uncle, mentally omitting every embarrassing thing that happened that night.

Mrs. Hawkes choked on her vodka. “ _The_ Grim Goblin? You’ve been there?”

“Why, Josephine, you didn’t tell me that your son had already gone down that route? Ready to follow the footsteps of his father, I daresay.”

William took a deep breath.

_Anything but like his father._

The twinkle in Felipe’s eye was unhinging William. He did not want to be part of this. He did not want to belong to their world. He was the proud Lieutenant William Hawkes of the 11th precinct; steadfast and honest, unlike his corrupt father, unlike his profiteering mother.

“I better go-” he began, rising up from the chair.

“ _Stay_!”

His mother screeched so loudly at him, that he folded like the obedient child that he was. It was bad enough that she shouted at him every day. But in front of guests?

_This was shameful._

From the corner of his eyes, he saw Sake grin at his direction mockingly. He can also see Bella’s lips tug into a malicious smile.

Just like the doormat that he was. Behind his back, he clenched his fist.

This was just plain humiliating and degrading.

_He can handle it._

He hung his head and collected himself, before flashing a smile at the guests.

“Please continue, dearest uncle.”

_He’d been handling it for a long time._

The doors of the drawing room were closed. The curtains behind his back were drawn to block out the setting sun. A silent hush befell the room, and Felipe pulled out papers from his briefcase.

“We need you to take over the Hawkes Enterprise.”

It felt like a splash of cold water was thrown into his face. This was it, the day he had been dreading had come at last. William was well aware that he was his mother’s sole benefactor, and that the company was part of his inheritance.

She did always cry out how she wanted him to take over the _family business_.

Yet he didn’t want the silver spoon he was born with.

William opened his mouth, but immediately closed it when he saw his mother glaring at him with cold cruel eyes.

_Be who you were born to be. Be your father’s son. Because you can’t handle it your way._

A part of him really wanted to say no, to defy her, spread his wings and break free. But duty meant doing the things his heart may well regret.

He was the proud Lieutenant William Hawkes of the 11th precinct.

But he was also the proud son of the Hawkes Family. Even amidst everything.

“Of course, Uncle, it’s about time,” he found himself saying, more lies lacing into his words than ever before.

Like spitting acid and venom.

Quietly, he read the terms of the shares and contract. All was in order. Nothing shady, nothing dodgy, and most importantly, nothing illegal.

Finally, with elegant letters, he signed his name. _William Hawkes._

“Welcome to the Phantom Scythe,” he heard his mother drawl.

_What. What?_

“Excuse me?” he said, raising his head slowly. Four pair of eyes looked at him dangerously.

He consciously reached for his gun, but it wasn’t there. Inwardly, he cursed. He looked at the papers on his hand. There was nothing suspicious. There was nothing in it related to the Phantom Scythe. He sifted through the pages, his heart beating fast and his mind racing.

Was this their idea of a sick joke?

“Young William, isn’t this exciting, you’re finally part of the _family business_!” Felipe clapped. “You know I’ve been handling the affairs of the Hawkes Enterprise for the 13th apostle since your mother here has been having a hard time. Your father was always the better apostle.”

He just stared at them, disbelief apparent in his eyes. His very own flesh and blood were members of the Phantom Scythe?

“What did you think the family business was? The Hawkes Enterprise? Well, I guess it is too, but really, your father had to let go of his Chief of Police position to become the 13th apostle.”

His mind refused to accept the information just tossed. His father was the previous Chief of Police, not a Scythe apostle.

So he locked eyes with Tim Sake, who just shrugged.

Lauren had always been right about him. She did not deserve her demotion. This man had always been guilty.

“You!” he stood up, running towards the scarred _bald_ man, but he was quickly halted in his tracks when Bella whipped out a blade and pointed it towards his neck.

“Tsk tsk, Lieutenant Hawkes. You wouldn’t want to be the next victim of the golden viper venom,” she said, tapping the flat oh her blade on the base of his chin. “Poor Harvey Wood really looked beautiful when…”

She bit her lower lip, her eyes melting to ecstasy as she said, “I killed him.”

William stepped back, feeling sick to his stomach. This woman had infiltrated his office, his safe space, and brutally slaughtered an innocent man.

His blue eyes flared with angry intensity as he threw a hateful glare at the assassin.

“Oh, don’t look so angry now,” she giggled. “Officer Wood was a spy for the Scythe. You should be glad I got rid of him for you.”

_What. What?_

William shook his head, his eyes dampening to blankness, his brain not processing anything anymore.

How much of these crimes were happening under his watch? What a pathetic lieutenant he was. The captain ordered him to deliver _La Lune_ to justice, not join the Phantom Scythe.

These people were the real deal.

They were demons walking on broad daylight.

“You know, we’ll have to kill you if you don’t cooperate. Here and now, if you don’t sit down,” she slurred, pushing him back towards his chair.

William was in shock.

“Since when?” he finally screamed at his mother.

He never, not once, raised his voice at her. Through all the frustrations, through all the pain, suffering, and humiliation.

But the lies? The deception?

The crimes?

Just like that, he lost his pride as the son of the Hawkes Family.

Mrs. Hawkes stood up, taking another swing of vodka from her glass. “Since the beginning,” she drawled. “And you had to be unfilial and make things harder for me. A police officer, bah. You don’t even have power and influence in your position. At least aim to be chief. The Sinclair girl is just as blind as you are.”

_What. What?_

What did he mean about Lauren? Was she also roped into some sort of conspiracy as well? Tristan Sinclair cannot be involved in this bullshit. He was the Chief of Police.

But his father had been too.

_No, impossible._

Felipe laughed. “Don’t be shy of your achievements, Josephine. Tell the boy how deep you and Stefan. were in on this.”

But she kept her silence.

So Felipe continued. “Your father was an original apostle. One of the thirteen who orchestrated the Allendale Train Tragedy. Be proud!”

_What. What?_

It was like life and soul left his very eyes.

“Then why did the Purple Hyacinth kill him?” he said quietly.

Sake scoffed. “Ask him yourself. Pretty sure the brat will answer you.”

_What. What?_

Was he supposed to know the identity of the infamous Purple Hyacinth?

Bella pulled her blade from William’s direction and directed it at Sake’s throat instead. “I don’t like what you are implying, my beloved Timmy,” she smiled. “Phantom Scythe assassins will only be referred to by their code names, and they will remain anonymous to all.”

“We both know you won’t kill me, doll.”

“You’re testing your luck.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, let’s all kindly chill. We are here on business,” Felipe laughed.

Tim rolled his eyes, slapping an envelope in front of the shaken William. “We are not here to listen to your bitching and complaining. The Hawkes Enterprise will take over Flemmings’ role in the 7th apostle’s operation. As of the moment, all we need you to do is to sign these papers. Sterling will slowly introduce you to how we do things. You can fully handle operations once you are ready.”

William kept his head low, both his hands grasping his hair.

_Be who you were born to be. Be your father’s son. Because you can’t handle it your way._

Following his father’s footsteps, making his mother proud, joining the _family business_. These spelled the death of William’s self-identity.

Was he willing to send his mother and uncle to jail? If he did that, the Hyacinth will slaughter them in the tower. Maybe that’s for the better? They were scum of the earth, that’s for sure.

But he won’t have that chance to do so. The Viper Assassin will kill him if he didn’t agree. There were probably more spies in the precinct. Will his death be chalked up as another unfortunate casualty?

“Decide quickly, Lieutenant, or maybe we should just kill the Sergeant Ladell if you won’t cooperate,” she scoffed. “My my, that will be like going full circle, going back to my _origins_.”

William’s hands began to tremble. “You wouldn’t,” he said with a shaky smile. “Because I’ll happily join the _family business_.”

His eyes brimmed with dedicated determination. “I’ll be an amazing addition to your ranks,” he said, gaining confidence in his words; the hardness of his voice surprising even him.

The police’s spies were always the first to die in this losing war. Maybe he can do something about it. He can protect the country, protect the city, and _protect Kym_ , even at the cost of his identity.

The Captain asked him to capture _La Lune_ , but he might need to take a few pages from their book instead. It was time to do his duty.

“Good. Also, keep your work as a lieutenant. Your mother still wants you to follow the footsteps of your father. Do note that we have eyes and ears everywhere, so don’t you dare attempt to double cross us.”

He was already thinking about it.

_“You wouldn’t like to follow him to the point that you end up like your father, would you?”_

That was a threat of death.

William composed himself, hatching a plan of action in the cogworks of his mind. He was and will always be the proud lieutenant William Hawkes of the 11th precinct.

_So he’ll be fine. He can handle it._

“Like my father, you say?” he replied with his most ruthless, charming smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heh. Remember when I started Impasse as a comedy. Big oof.
> 
> \---
> 
> All characters of Purple Hyacinth belong to [Sophism](https://www.instagram.com/deadsophism/?hl=en) and [Ephemerys](https://www.instagram.com/ephemerys_ph/?hl=en).
> 
> [Read Purple Hyacinth on Webtoons](https://www.webtoons.com/en/mystery/purple-hyacinth/list?title_no=1621&page=1)
> 
> [Official Purple Hyacinth Discord](https://discord.gg/DfkfTxD)


	12. Curious Cases

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lukas leaned on one of the shelves and looked at the blinking light bulb. “Lack of evidence, every single time. Those detectives should just be skewered in sticks since they are all so incompetent,” he chuckled darkly.
> 
> “Touché. Incompetent people should be hacked, sliced, and their remains thrown at the sea," the archivist laughed softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OST while reading: [WE'VE NEVER MET BUT CAN WE HAVE A COFFEE OR SOMETHING](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BeI6an1Fy6E) by [In Love With A Ghost](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCSCIeZFgWF5ZNmvNVG16WHQ).
> 
> _Loop the music ♥_

It was a particularly wonderful Tuesday in the 11th precinct. The birds were chirping, the wind was singing, the patrol unit’s office was silent. The morning sun had just barely risen, and its rays gently hit the windows, warming the office during the breezy morning.

Officer Lukas Randall inhaled the warm aroma from his long macchiato, a small smile painting his lips before returning to his trademark deadpan stare. He was the first one in the patrol unit’s office today, which was a quite a rarity because usually, the hard workers came in before him. He closed his eyes to bask in silence.

_Peace and serenity._ No buggering sergeant who’s high pitched voice kept echoing through his skull, no lieutenant who bickered with the noisy sergeant. And no other officers who just let them do as they please.

“Lukas, good morning,” a voice bright as sunshine filled the air.

_Oh, her, the most tolerable presence in the entire precinct._

“Morning, _Ms. Desroses_ ,” Lukas grumbled, sipping his coffee. Today she was wearing a plaid green cotton dress. How decent, compared to the succubus hiding deep inside her. He grinned at himself at the thought of their little private affair a week ago.

Lila giggled softly, her voice ringing like soft bells in his ears. “No need to be so formal with me, Lukas,” she began. For a second, her eyes shined, before returning to its usual innocence. “After all, we have been closer before.”

A mischievous smile graced her lips.

She was challenging him, and he can hear it in her voice.

“Are you perhaps suggesting a reprise, _Lila_ ,” he grinned, his eyes gleaming dangerously. Interesting how her name easily rolled out of his tongue. He enjoyed her calm energy; by how unfazed she was by a gaze that would stiffen even the best trained officers in the precinct; by how ironic her presence was: a demon in an angel’s dress.

There was simply something about her that pulled him in.

“I have a busy schedule, but I can book you in,” she smiled, clasping her hands together. “Will Friday sound all right?”

That’s two days from now, but he wasn’t particularly desperate for some sex. _After all, he needed answers before proceeding._

“Then pen me in that appointment,” he said casually before returning to his paperwork.

He was not a man into committed relationships. And this affair between them was a passable excuse as a pastime for him, in addition to his hobby of observing others. _It was the perfect arrangement for him to be able to dig through this little matter a little deeper._ Like killing two birds with one stone.

From his desk, he saw Lauren Sinclair and Kieran White walking in the hallway, hands intertwined, talking in hushed voices while walking to the archive room. At least they were quiet compared to the other troubled couple. Lila was also looking at the little show unfolding before them, tapping her fingers on the desk as she heaved a sigh and said, “How romantic, right?”

“No.”

“Oh shush, Lukas. They look like they will make out in the archive room.”

Lukas checked his pocket watch. 6:30 am. They still had thirty minutes to indulge in whatever they were attempting to do in there. A fortunate thing for them that majority of the people from the archive department come in a few minutes late every single day.

“You really think they do it in there? Or do they do non office related business?”

He didn’t like the way how Lila phrased it, nor how her eyes shined as she asked him. It was a prying question masquerading as an innocent attempt at gossip.

Just like how he does it.

It was very subtle tactic, yet an effective one for those less trained in the art of probing.

_What an interesting woman._

“I prefer not to care about the sex lives of my colleagues. After all, you wouldn’t want others to be peering into yours,” he answered carefully, watching Lila carefully through his mug.

She just smiled sweetly back at him, her face not giving him anything to decipher.

If there was anything he learned about his one night stand with Lila, it was that she wasn’t who she was letting on. So he wanted to observe her some more.

He flipped through the case file he had on hand. The Tran Marigold, a brothel frequented by the rich of the city. They had a case of tax evasion last year, but a certain Atty. Chas LeBlonde sorted it out for them. It was thought to be one of the many hangouts of an elusive prostitution ring, but no evidence surfaced regarding the matter. Recently, the brothel’s name also came up in a different investigation regarding the green vials spreading through the black markets of Ardhalis.

The very same green vial that he saw on Lila’s bedside desk.

But the investigation unit already closed this case and refused to proceed any further. Lack of evidence, they cited. But he was curious. A little prowling wouldn’t do anyone harm, especially if it could lead to something more interesting than his mundane schedule in the precinct.

_And they did say curiosity killed the cat._

He heard her giggle. “Well, I’ll grab my morning coffee,” she smiled with the ambiance of the sun, before disappearing into the hallway. There was something strange about Lila, and if it would take him a few more probing before discovering her true intentions, and he’d best enjoy them while they lasted.

* * *

“Morning Lukas,” Sinclair greeted upon entering the still empty office. She looked quite tired today, even if it was _just_ a Wednesday morning. This was typical of her, except for the fact that ever since she began her relationship with White, she looked like she was beginning to have a proper sleep schedule.

Lukas grunted as the other officer peered into the file he was studying. “Oh, I was looking for that in the archives, didn’t know you have it with you.”

He raised an eyebrow and looked at the other folders on her hand. From his point of view, he could see folders related to the investigations regarding the Honolulu acquisition, and the files of the four Scythe members murdered in the tower.

“Why are you interested in closed cases, Sinclair?” he simply asked, before returning his eyes to the file. Yet the same can be said about him. He was also mulling through closed investigations.

They’ve been piling a lot more since last year.

From the corner of his eyes, he saw Lila come in, mug on hand with her newly brewed coffee.

Lukas closed the case file and shoved it in Sinclair’s hand the moment Lila ducked under her desk to collect something from under her table.

“Thank you,” she replied, eyeing him with interest.

He didn’t care why Sinclair was interested in Tran Marigold, but if he wasn’t the only one sniffing something around, then he might really be onto something interesting and deadly.

“Yeah, I’ll take that back later,” he said, grabbing his coffee cup as he walked to the archive room.

* * *

“Just the file about Harvey and every murder case from November 14, xx17.”

It was the Sergeant Kym Ladell’s voice, but it didn’t have its usual bounce or its typical mirth.

Lukas stayed by the doorway, watching White collected the files needed by Ladell, before announcing his presence.

“Congratulations on being quiet today, Sergeant,” he greeted in a bored tone. Even she was collecting closed investigations.

Something was definitely up.

Ladell jumped a bit, clutching her heart at the sound of his voice. “You scared me,” she half laughed. “You’re early today, did you need something?”

“Files on a closed investigation,” he simply said. “Seems like you’re getting some too.”

He saw White stop on his tracks as he flipped through one of the documents the Sergeant was requesting. “Sergeant, I think this is dangerous-” he began, but Ladell swooped in like an eagle and clawed the folder from the archivist.

“I’ll bribe you an entire watermelon if you keep your silence about this file,” she winked at the two men, before making headway for the patrol unit office.

“But watermelons are already banned in the precinct,” White chuckled, before sighing. He pursed his lips before saying, “Officer Randall, what do you need?”

“The files on the prostitution rings,” he replied quickly, eyeing the door for potential eavesdroppers. “Busy morning you have, White. Is everyone gathering old cases and closed investigations?”

The archivist looked at him with a calculating look before smiling. “The police of the patrol unit might be a chaotic bunch, but you all seem to be rather intuitive fellows.”

“Sounds like a backhanded compliment.”

“But a compliment nonetheless. Take it as it is.”

The archivist started to go to the back of the room, and Lukas followed, watching him dig through the stacks of papers. “I do wonder how come each and every single investigation regarding the Scythe steer to dead ends.”

Lukas leaned on one of the shelves and looked at the blinking light bulb. “Lack of evidence, every single time. Those detectives should just be skewered in sticks since they are all so incompetent,” he chuckled darkly.

“ _Touché_. Incompetent people should be hacked, sliced, and their remains thrown at the sea,” the archivist laughed softly. “Seems like patrol officers have a beef with the investigation department.”

“Nothing of the sort. Wait. We all hate Detective Miles Cooper, but beyond that, they’re all idiots. Even I just observe that we have a trend of insufficient evidence. We are reduced to stopping petty crimes, but we can’t really do anything about the overall problem.”

The archivist nodded and agreed, dusting some papers and files he gathered before turning around to face the officer.

“An interesting notion. I don’t think I ever considered that angle before. You may be onto something, Officer Randall. But try to keep some dangerous facts to yourself,” the archivist said seriously, before handing out the files he needed. “The precinct walls have eyes and ears everywhere.”

“A fair warning that I will heed,” he replied, thinking about Lila and her potential connection to the Scythe. “Hopefully you won’t find me dead in a ditch somewhere.”

“I’ll make sure you won’t,” the archivist promised reassuringly, as if his words bore real weight. “So try to play safe games, officer.”

“Not one for playing it safe, but I’ll try to stay alive.”

Lukas turned and saw the Lieutenant William Hawkes entering the archive room. He had a very tired expression on his face, but on his eyes was a glint of hardened determination.

Now that’s an expression he had never seen Hawkes wear before.

“Here for some old cases too, lieutenant?” Lukas asked rhetorically. It was a trend this morning, and he wouldn’t be surprised if the lieutenant needed something of the sort too.

“I just need that file about the Purple Hyacinth’s first kill, the golden viper venom, and the Honolulu case.”

Interesting, now Hawkes was interested in files Sinclair and Ladell gathered. He side glanced at White, who visibly sighed and said, “I can get you the one about the Hyacinth’s first kill.”

There was an unreadable expression on the archivist’s face.

“The Honolulu one is with Sinclair, Harvey’s is with the Sergeant,” Lukas supplied for White as he walked out towards the door. He raised his mug to the archivist, who nodded a smile back at him.

“Oh, is it?” he heard the Lieutenant muse, as he looked at the shelves pensively.

Curious, whatever happened during everyone’s week? Old case files, closed investigations, dead ends. It seemed like everyone in the patrol unit had a renewed interest in them.

Lukas sighed, thinking how everything was so suspicious and interesting at the same time. Surely something big was going to happen?

_Then he will continue to observe everyone some more._

It was a particularly calm Monday in the 11th precinct. Like a calm before the storm. And Officer Lukas Randall walked back to the office and sat back on his chair, crossing his arms as he anticipated chaos to unfold inside the precinct one of these days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's some sort of a filler chapter because everything had been too tense lately OOF. Also, Lukas and Kieran vibe the best.  
> Read [Two Cups of Vienna](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24300937?view_adult=true) by [LiviaKa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiviaKa/pseuds/LiviaKa) to get the gist of what happened between Lukas and Lila.  
> Also, thank, LiviaKa, for the name Tran Marigold ♥
> 
> ___
> 
> All characters of Purple Hyacinth belong to [Sophism](https://www.instagram.com/deadsophism/?hl=en) and [Ephemerys](https://www.instagram.com/ephemerys_ph/?hl=en).
> 
> [Read Purple Hyacinth on Webtoons](https://www.webtoons.com/en/mystery/purple-hyacinth/list?title_no=1621&page=1)
> 
> [Official Purple Hyacinth Discord](https://discord.gg/DfkfTxD)


	13. Hopeless Hypocrite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The assassin took a deep breath to preserve his sanity. He didn’t want a repeat of their last fight, so he calmed himself from shouting at her. If there was one thing he absolutely detested about Lauren, it’s her inability look beyond her bigotry.
> 
> The way she picked who were the just and righteous, based on their associations and alignments?
> 
> It was honestly disgusting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OST while reading: [HAUNTED PAST](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CzQGmzP6vMg) by [Sophism and Isabella LeVan](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCDsCXH4LU74IcfXCx1QnDJQ).
> 
> _Loop the music ♥_

Kieran twirled his dagger between his fingers, absentmindedly playing with it before throwing it to the dummy a few good meters away. He grabbed another dagger and started to spin it like a pen.

“Please, _subordinate_ , can you please _kindly_ stop,” Lauren snapped, glaring at the assassin. She was staring intently at their investigation board, eyebrows furrowed; looking for some detail they might have overlooked.

Finally, after a month and a half of actively avoiding the cave, the have at last returned to their home turf _. Home sweet home for La Lune_. Tonight, it was brightly lit and full of activity that they have long deprived it from. The candles crackled softly behind the background music of the sloshing waterfall. The cave walls were damp and moist. The air was quite chilly.

It was a perfect night for over thinking.

“You know, I won’t be surprised if Lieutenant Hawkes is already part of the Phantom Scythe,” Kieran said nonchalantly, throwing his dagger to a different wooden target by the board. This morning, the lieutenant had come to the archive room looking for the files related to Stefan Hawkes, Honolulu, and the golden viper venom case.

For Kieran, it was obvious.

“I daresay he was told of his father being an apostle and was already asked to become a member. I’d even bet that Belladonna threatened him by telling him that she’s Harvey’s killer.”

“Shut up. Don’t say things you have no proof of.”

He knew that Lauren had this divine tendency to become a hypocrite. She was steadfast with her beliefs, but the officer’s morals were often compromised by what she only wanted to see, and what she believed was right.

Not that he ever thought that she was a bad detective; on the contrary, she was amazing facts were laid in front of her. But with her biased deductions fueled by impulsive feelings, he could see why Captain Hermann demoted her.

“My dearest, sweetest _darling_ , now don’t be too hasty when you judge other people. It didn’t even come to your mind that Harvey Wood was a spy. Next, you’re going to say that we shouldn’t investigate my parents and your uncle even though they’re high key sus-”

Lauren threw his dagger back at him, barely missing his face.

“We don’t talk about things we have no evidence of,” she snarled, her golden eyes flaring angry at his audacity to even suggest that. It was a look that reminded him of the good old days when their alliance was just beginning.

With a gun barrel constantly pointed cleanly at the centre of his head and a well sharpened knife aimed at her pretty little throat.

_Ah, the good old days_.

Kieran chuckled, mentally noting to stop pushing her buttons tonight. “Feisty,” he simply said, throwing his hands up in the air to surrender his appeal.

Lauren probably thought about her uncle too, but she was far too narrow minded to even attempt to investigate the matter. What a missed opportunity, when she can easily waltz into Tristan Sinclair’s study and no one would even bat an eye. No doubt that in her mind, her uncle was still probably the most saintly person she had ever had the fortune of getting to know.

“How about another infiltration to ease your mind?” he suggested. He wanted to move fast. It was just sheer dumb luck that the explosion the 7th was planning got pushed back to August. They won’t get anything done if they keep mulling over the incomplete evidence they had. _La Lune_ needed a big net to catch the entire Scythe in one fell swoop, else, it will just keep cutting of its excess roots and leaves with the help of the Purple Hyacinth.

If Lauren had to obsess on the possibility of how each and every person she knew were entangled in these webs of conspiracies, they would never get anything done.

“Then let’s start with the Ridgeways,” she decided.

Kieran sighed. She was really adamant on avoiding the Hawkes and the Honolulu issues as of the moment, even if there was enough evidence to go after them from what they gathered at the ball. With the truths shoved to her the other day, maybe her heart was still not ready for the possibility of William becoming a turncoat against the country of Ardhalis.

But they needed to do this.

“Followed immediately with Hawkes and Honolulu.”

Lauren opened her mouth to protest, but Kieran raised a finger. “If you’re really worried about the Lieutenant, then we should act fast before he goes deeper into their operations,” he replied seriously.

“I know you hate the idea that your friends might possibly be involved in Scythe matters, but mind you, they don’t need a push from me or from you to mix themselves up in this messy business eventually. I’m sure you noticed the sudden increase of closed cases being read by your comrades at the precinct this morning?”

Lauren may be stubborn as a mule, but hard facts were enough to drag her back down from her high horse of ideal delusions. “And it’s not just the Lieutenant. Even the Sergeant and the Grumpy Cat seem to be entangled into something too,” he continued. “So for the sake of everything you hold dear, can we please be suspicious of everything and everyone?”

She thought about it momentarily, pacing in front of the board for a bit. “Okay… fine,” Lauren huffed in defeat. “All for William.”

“Yes, so your _friends_ don’t get into trouble.”

Lauren paused, looking at the newspaper clippings about the Allendale Train Tragedy, as if in deep thought. “Was his father really an apostle?”

Kieran did not like the tone she went with, or the direction their conversation was heading.

“So what if the lieutenant’s father was the original 13th apostle?” he replied with mild irritation.

“You killed him first, am I right?”

The insensitivity in her tone was, in all honesty, ticking him off, but he patiently reminded himself that she had a couple of rough nights and that he needed to be accommodating for his dearly beloved.

“What of it, _darling_?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“He deserved his death, yes?”

The assassin took a deep breath to preserve his sanity. He didn’t want a repeat of their last fight, so he calmed himself from shouting at her. If there was one thing he absolutely detested about Lauren, it’s her inability look beyond her bigotry.

The way she picked who were the just and righteous, based on their associations and alignments?

It was honestly disgusting.

“No one deserves death, not even Phantom Scythe members.”

That had always been his conviction and his belief. He prided himself with how fast his kills were because they were always swift and painless. Even with how desensitized he was with the sight of corpses and the metallic smell of gushing blood, he never forgot the last look of horrified terror in each of his victim’s eyes. Like the monster that he was, he accepted their hatred. And with every life claimed from this good earth with the swing of his sword, he prayed for with the highest form of reverence and the sincerest of penitence.

An apology, paid with a single stalk of a purple hyacinth.

To protect the things he loved, he had to sully his hands with crimson blood.

“Maybe they do.”

And Lauren had to go and mock the very essence of life.

He remembered how angry she was about the massacre at the tower. A false sense of rage and misplaced sympathy borne from a missed opportunity of fishing the truth that had long eluded her.

He knew what exactly was running on her mind. She was attempting to look for excuses for her friends and her uncle. Because she had known them and trusted them, they can’t possibly the very monsters that she spent a decade of her life detesting. She was rationalizing a way to absolve them from her perceived monstrosity, if perchance they really turned out to be affiliated with the syndicate.

He may be playing the fearsome grim reaper, but she had no right to play as a vengeful god.

“Are you scared that you will lose friends if you learn that they are Scythe members?” he found himself saying with quiet intensity as he stood up and to walk towards her. In a mocking tone, he continued, “Afraid to not care for them anymore the way you lost respect for poor Harvey Wood when you found out that he was an agent of the Scythe? Afraid that you won’t cry at their deaths when the _Purple Hyacinth_ is ordered to kill them?”

He stopped a foot in front of her, crossing his arms and looking at her darkly with hard and stern eyes.

“Stop being a hypocrite when-”

His words were cut short when he felt a heavy sting hit him right across his cheek.

_When you’re sleeping with a known monster._

Lauren had slapped Kieran, and the loud single clap of her strike echoed ominously around the cave.

“Don’t.”

A second felt like an eternity, and only their unsynchronized breathing could be heard as the reverberations faded and dissolved into nothingness.

“Are you done?” Kieran whispered harshly.

Lauren was shaking, her open palm still mid-air as her eyes began to tear. She clenched both of her fists and pounded them with intensity at Kieran’s chest. The weight of her force was very heavy, as if it was an allegory to the feelings she kept hidden and silent deep inside.

“I know, I’m a fucking hypocrite!”

He sighed, softening his gaze as he pulled Lauren into a gentle embrace. There were many things she wasn’t ready to accept, and they were all probably bogging her mind in ways inconceivable to him. Lauren had a peculiar gift of discerning lies from truths, of hearing mendacity in a web of words, yet even with such powers, she had no way of telling who was with or against her.

_It was also her curse._

Ten long years of guarding her heart, of carefully trusting people just because she didn’t hear them lie to her, shattered like glass, just like that.

It wasn’t her fault that she had been irrational with her quest for revenge these last few years. And it does make sense that she thought of the members of the Scythe as monsters. After all, they were thieves, terrorists, murderers, and plunderers.

This other half of the Scythe may be nothing but profiteers who only joined the movement for the sake of personal gain, but there were those forced into servitude by either circumstance or by threat. And then there were people who legitimately thought that their society was corrupt, with the only way to get back at it was to fight fire with fire.

_But that doesn’t mean that she shouldn’t see them as human._

However righteous she portrayed herself, Kieran understood more than anyone that Lauren held little to no regard with the sanctity of life. While he may be the Purple Hyacinth, a man whose hands were tainted with the blood of hundreds, he never once thought that anyone deserved their unfortunate death by his hands. He needed her to understand this; that not just because someone was a member of the Scythe meant that they were inherently evil in nature.

_Those types of sentiments were reserved for the people who live with the sword. For people who kill without cause. For people who enjoy slaughter just for the sake of it. For people who were willing to sacrifice others for their own personal gain._

_For the remaining apostles and the venerable leader._

Because the Purple Hyacinth knew that out of all the apostles, Stefan Hawkes deserved death the least.

Lauren’s quiet sobs became hysterical wailings, as she cried about how blind she had been all her life. She cried about how she thought of the Hawkes as a second family. She cried about what she would do if William decided to follow the footsteps of his father. She cried about how she thought that only the petty thieves and corrupt businessmen were the possible members of the Scythe. She cried at the possibility of her uncle betraying the country. She cried for the parents she neglected to take revenge for. She cried for the _boy_ she couldn’t deliver vengeance to.

_She cried about how everyone was a liar, how everyone were monsters, how everyone should just burn in hell._

But most of all, she cried how much of a hypocrite she was, wishing cruel fortune on those she deemed evil, when she herself was breaking the law and entangling with the deadliest assassin in the city.

_She cried about how she was the liar, how she was the monster, how she should just burn in hell._

Kieran slowly ran his fingers through her soft hair, carrying her like a princess to the mattress as she continued to cry her out heart.

“I know darling, the world is filthy, selfish, and corrupt,” he whispered to her ear as he caressed her tense back.

Lauren leaned to his chest, closing her eyes as she slowly calmed her breathing down. With gentle fingers, he wiped the remainder of her tears away.

“And so are you. But that’s human nature, and humanity is beautiful,” he continued, kissing the top of her head. Even if for him, even if she was his goddess and sun, there was no point in putting Lauren on a moral pedestal.

After all, to err was human.

“I’ll try,” she faintly replied as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pushed him down the bed. She had long fallen from grace, but she had never fully understood what it entailed until tonight. He felt her hands combing his hair as her golden eyes, still hazy from the tears, locked intensely with his own turquoise ones.

“Can we stay here tonight?”

“What will your uncle say?”

“I’m not sure I’m emotionally ready to go home after tonight.”

Kieran nodded as Lauren sighed thankfully and collapsed on the space beside him.

Maybe one of these days, she would be willing to infiltrate her uncle’s study. And he would be ready to corner his parents and interrogate them.

But one by one. Within this week, they would need to prepare for three rounds of infiltration.

The Ridgeway Law Firm, the Honolulu Company, and the Hawkes Enterprise.

Hopefully, this operation will be both fruitful and uneventful.

_Because the last thing he needed was the Messenger coming to the Purple Hyacinth as a bearer of bad news._

He pushed that thought away and closed his eyes as he turned to his side to hug Lauren from behind. “You should just move in with me,” he gently laughed as he inhaled the scent of her hair. How he’d love it if she could wake up next to him each morning, if they can take peaceful walks each afternoon, and sleep soundly beside each other every evening.

Lauren nuzzled closer to him. “Maybe one of these days.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you think of how I wrote their moral standings.  
> I demand comments.
> 
> ~~Oh, you wanted smut? Just imagine them having sex tonight. it totally happened. Of course it hasn't been a month since their last sex HAHA omL they probably do it everyday. **My LauKi is a horny ass couple** , they probably did it in the chateau too.~~
> 
> \---
> 
> All characters of Purple Hyacinth belong to [Sophism](https://www.instagram.com/deadsophism/?hl=en) and [Ephemerys](https://www.instagram.com/ephemerys_ph/?hl=en).
> 
> [Read Purple Hyacinth on Webtoons](https://www.webtoons.com/en/mystery/purple-hyacinth/list?title_no=1621&page=1)
> 
> [Official Purple Hyacinth Discord](https://discord.gg/DfkfTxD)


	14. Irreconcilable Information

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The clock struck midnight, and Sunday came. La Lune made plans to rendezvous for a late night date. Under the starless sky, they sat quietly on a dark rooftop, watching the new arrival of shipments unload. They leaned into each other, talking in hushed whispers as they discussed what had transpired and their ploy for the future.
> 
> Slowly, the sun came up, and they watched the sun rise from the zenith of the horizon.
> 
> Beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Strong and vulgar language.
> 
> OST while reading: [AMBIENT DARK JAZZ - NOIR MIXTURE](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b9n97S0pGqc) by [Shiprinski](https://soundcloud.com/shiprinski/).
> 
> _Loop the music ♥_

Lauren sipped her coffee, licking the bottom of her red painted lips as she observed the targets. Tonight, she was wearing a decent ensemble of earth colours. Under a simple brown norfolk jacket, secured behind the tight belt around her hips, was a nude cotton top with a fancy collar, complemented by a tight dark pencil skirt that trimmed just above her knee. She raised the back of her hand to her face, eyeing the Ridgeways past her manicured fingernails.

They sat far from the door, and she needed to take a seat much closer to them. She fixed her homburg hat and lightly touched the curls of her blonde wig as she gracefully stood up to take a stride to the counter.

It was a dainty coffee shop in the middle of downtown Ardhalis. Its brick walls and warm lights created a peaceful and homey atmosphere, and it’s warm scent was filled with the sweet aroma of coffee and chocolate. Besides her and the targets were a few more patrons. Nightlife was rather alive here in this neighbourhood, because the town centre bustled with middle class businesses. In this particular section of the city, different firms flourished, from law practitioners to architectural and engineering offices.

Her heeled suede pumps stopped with a loud clack on the wooden floorboards, gathering the attention of the young woman behind the counter. “A cinnamon bun please,” Lauren said sweetly. “And if you could kindly reheat my coffee.”

While the barista worked her way through her order, she kept an eye at the two lawyers. From what they were able to discover from the ball, the Ridgeways were handling certain permits for the 7th apostle’s operation.

She should have known that they were somehow involved in this shady business. The Ridgeways were the lawyers of the four unfortunate souls that _La Lune_ had inevitably sent to their untimely doom.

_Atty. J.C. Ridgeway and his partner in crime, Atty. T.C. Ridgeway._

Whatever could they be processing for the Phantom Scythe this time?

Lauren sat herself two tables behind them, just enough to eavesdrop, but not enough to look suspiciously close to them. She thanked the young woman who brought her the food she ordered. “ **They are a handsome pair of men** ,” she said in a low voice, pointing at the Ridgeways. Her lips curled to a small grin as she put a finger up to her lips.

The young woman took the hint, giggling. “Oh, they are patrons. They come here every night at 7pm sharp.”

Perfect.

She slid a bill towards the woman. “A tip for your assistance,” she winked. “And for your silence.”

“Ah of course, madam. I’ve played cupid for a lot of couples before.”

What a lovely young lady. Too bad that she was serving criminals and enablers.

Lauren leaned her back to the chair to listen into the conversation of the brothers. It wasn’t particularly hard, since they were boisterous and loud. Like a bunch of hooligans, they laughed loudly over coffee as if it was alcohol instead.

“What time will your departure be, dear brother?” she heard Travis, the younger brother, say. Lauren frowned as she sliced her bun. So one of them was going out of town. Pity, since she wanted to personally interrogate them.

“In the morning, dear brother. 10 am sharp.”

“So, will we still head to the Tran Marigold tonight?”

The Tran Marigold. It was quite a famous brothel, found on the upper east side of the 11th precinct. Last year, a big tax evasion lawsuit was filed against the establishment. Its name also came up in investigations regarding the green vials and the city’s illegal prostitution rings.

Lauren shook her head when she remembered Lukas looking over this matter. Hopefully the Grumpy Cat was just looking at the files merely out of boredom, and not to follow up on some private investigation that no one wanted him to do.

“You’ll have to go alone tonight, dear brother. The wife arranged an orgy at home as a going away present, so I better get back to have some fun.”

The officer undercover almost half choked on her drink. Was that something to discuss loudly in a peaceful coffee shop? If anything, Lauren had to applaud the missus for allowing her husband such kinky vices.

“How unkind are you to not even invite your very own flesh and blood to a merry gathering of cunts and boobs?”

“I’d rather have them by myself, thanks. I wouldn’t enjoy my own little brother’s sad excuse for a floppy dick in my party of beautiful sirens.”

“You disgust me. Have you been spying on my length? Who’s the escort in charge?”

“The Mistress Briar, I believe.”

Lauren mentally took note of the name. Prostitution was illegal in the country of Ardhalis, so if a big time courtesan was in the city, how come the police had no leads to follow up on the cases related to the prostitution rings?

“How lucky. I heard that she’s rather hard to book these days. Then I’ll just have to settle for the hostess of Tran Marigold.”

“As if you’ll be lucky enough to get picked by her. Aren’t you due for an appointment abroad Wednesday next week?”

The younger Ridgeway laughed. “You’ll see, my dearest brother. Tuesday night, she will dance on my lap like the whore that she is, and she will pick me to fuck her senseless in the suite she reserved for the night.”

“Very confident. You really do take after our father. Tell you what, if you manage to do so, then I’ll pay you fifty grand.”

“I’ll take you up on that offer.”

An idea formed in Lauren’s mind. So, Tran Marigold was really a den of paid sluts and harlots. Atty. LeBlonde was indeed amazing for keeping the records of the establishment blemish free. She could use this opportunity to blend in as a prostitute. Atty. Travis Ridgeway was an arrogant man in need of a good fuck, and with the correct probing, she can make him sing his secrets under the guise of prideful boasting.

* * *

“I’ve checked their offices. Looks like the Ridgeways do keep their place of work clean and legal,” Kieran said, throwing photographs of the documents he took earlier on his desk as he sat down on his chair. Earlier tonight, while Lauren was tailing the targets in a nearby coffee shop, he snuck inside the firm and ransacked their files for anything illegal. Although they had papers that connected them to known Scythe members, all their transactions were legal and fair under Ardhalis laws.

“Lawyers really know how to make their crimes disappear. I should have infiltrated their homes.”

Lauren held back a snicker as she started to remove her wig and the pins that held it in place. “Be glad that you didn’t. Mr. J.C. Ridgeway is holding a slutfest tonight, so you and your dick would have stood out in the crowd.”

Kieran cocked his head to the side. The Ridgeways seem to be a debauched kind of people. “Is that so? Then I’ll check their homes tomorrow, though I doubt I will find some evidence.”

“That would be great, since the older one will be out of town.” Kieran watched Lauren take off her coat and throw it on the floor. His eyes raked down to the tight pencil skirt she was wearing.

Not that he haven’t seen her naked before, but skimpy clothes really do accentuate her assets.

He busied his hands with the papers in front of him, as he continued to ask, “And the other one?”

“Out of country by next Wednesday.”

“Then we’ll have to act fast.”

“Actually, subordinate, I have an idea, in case we really find no paper trails,” she said with a cocky grin. “Fool proof and fail safe.”

Kieran whistled. Whatever Lauren planned surely was good. “Do share,” he encouraged her to continue.

“I’ll infiltrate Tran Marigold as the hostess.”

Kieran blinked thrice. Had he heard her right? “I thought you already had enough of impersonations,” he frowned ever so slightly. And have someone else have a piece of his dearly beloved? Although he appreciated the dedication that pushed her to suggest this, he had to admit that deep inside, he was rather the possessive type of lover.

A small laugh spilled from Lauren’s still painted lips. She turned to him and with slow hands, hiked her skirt higher as she positioned herself to straddle the doubting assassin. A hum vibrated from his throat as she began to trail her lips from his collarbone to the bottom of his chin. “You know how good I am with my words,” she whispered against his ear, her long fingernails sliding against his jaw, her hot breath sending shivers down his spine.

Kieran growled as he instinctively slid a hand across her thigh. Lauren was gifted with utilizing her sex appeal to get what she wanted, that he began to wonder if she ever had training for it. He responded to her advances by unbuttoning her top and kissing the bare skin on her chest. “As much as how deviant a seductress you are, officer, you really don’t need to auction off your body for information,” he mumbled in between nibbles and kisses.

He felt her grind her hips closer to his as her legs tightened around his waist. He groaned a bit at the lack of contact, so his hands begun to explore the rest of her body as reparation.

“Whatever I do in there, I’ll do to you ten times better,” she counter-offered, tugging his ear with a light nip with her teeth. Kieran’s filthy mind flashed with the possibility of unexplored positions, making his blood pump with adrenaline. His gentle kisses became harsh love bites and Lauren moaned at the sudden roughness of his lips against her skin.

_Like music to his ears._

He murmured in agreement as he continued to pamper her body with affection. “Then do refrain from flirting too much with Mr. Ridgeway if you don’t want me to _accidentally_ _kill_ him.”

“If you demand it so.”

* * *

The identities of the performers and hostess of Tran Marigold were easy to acquire. Every day, the show schedule was posted outside, displayed on the sidewalk. She was again in incognito, donning her black bob cut wig and a simple conservative red dress. With a few questions around the people in the area, she found the studio where the performers practiced and with the pretense of auditioning, introduced herself to the hostess of Tran Marigold.

“Sorry, we don’t take in people we don’t know,” she was told, but her query did not leave her fruitless. First, the hostess had a similar hair colour and body build as her. Second, she found a good vantage point where she can stay to observe and memorize their dance steps.

It was now just a matter of Kieran mildly poisoning the hostess so that she can take her place in the performance on Tuesday.

She continued to keep an eye on the other patrons who may be related to the Phantom Scythe.

* * *

Paper after paper, yet not even any evidence of illegal transactions. Kieran was in awe of these lawyers, as they were in no way sloppy, unlike their merchant clients who died in the tower.

Whatever task they were given within the 7th apostle’s operation, the Ridgeways were hiding it with applaudable secrecy.

Again, coming back from a search that led to nothing, he chewed his inner cheek as he stared up at the night sky. A few days from now, his dearly beloved would engage in promiscuous sluttery because these damned lawyers were just too good at what they do.

He found himself walking towards the shady part of Greychapel and ducked inside an empty looking building. “How much for a vial?” he asked, as if he had done this before.

As a reputable assassin, he never engaged in the addicting hobby of drugs, but he was well aware of their existence.

“Ten dollars,” the lone old man in the building said, digging deep into his pockets to produce a small clear vial. Kieran handed him his due and shook the container. White powder, labelled psilocin.

“Perchance the good sir also sells green vials with liquid on them?” he asked, taking a gander at his luck. They haven’t opened their looted vial yet, but he reckoned that they were most probably a form of drug. Or maybe poison. Or a liquid for the creation of bombs.

Honestly, they have no idea on what the green vial could have held, and randomly opening it may prove to be too dangerous and disastrous. He and Lauren were many things, but they weren’t chemists.

“Never heard of something like that,” the old man rasped, coughing his lungs out against his raggedy sleeve. His eyes were swollen, his lips were cracked, his face was sunken. Kieran wanted to pity the man.

“Is that so? Then thank you for your service.” He handed him an extra dollar, not failing to notice the dog tag hanging loosely on the man’s neck.

It was no wonder that the Phantom Scythe has many sympathizers among the lower mass, because even veterans who once served the country can sink to lows like this.

* * *

While Lauren was again busy taking visual dance lessons tonight, he took the liberty of tailing Felipe Sterling. It was easy to follow him, since he was a man with a prompt schedule. At 5 pm, he would leave his office building, and at 6 pm, he would arrive at the port. By the next hour, he would eat his dinner, then drive straight home.

For two nights, he could not see anything illegal regarding the actions of Honolulu’s CEO, so he stayed overnight to investigate the shipments going in by the docks.

There wasn’t anything new that came out of his stakeout, except for the fact that the state’s couriers and mailmen picked up the cargo and sent them to their respective new homes. The assassin would have loved to follow through and stalk a delivery, but he still had his day job as the 11th precinct’s archivist, even if Saturdays entailed just a half day’s worth of work.

* * *

“Take it,” Officer Randall greeted with his trademark gloom, shoving the handle of a hot coffee mug into his hand.

Kieran gratefully accepted the beverage, its sweet aroma filling life into his sleepless stature. “I’ll be sure to give one to Sinclair too,” he heard the officer mumble on his way out of the archive room.

A peculiar statement, but the Grumpy Cat was rather a perceptive man too. Kieran watched the officer drag his feet and bark at the gossipers loitering in the hallway.

To everyone else, Officer Randall might have acted within the bounds of his typical irritations, but to Kieran, his eyes glinted with playful darkness, as if the officer had found a little mouse to play with.

* * *

The clock struck midnight, and Sunday came. _La Lune_ made plans to rendezvous for a late night date. Under the starless sky, they sat quietly on a dark rooftop, watching the new arrival of shipments unload. They leaned into each other, talking in hushed whispers as they discussed what had transpired and their ploy for the future.

Slowly, the sun came up, and they watched the sun rise from the zenith of the horizon.

Beautiful.

They took off their masks and slid down to a tight alley, watching the state’s mailmen appear to collect the packages. With mutual agreement, Kieran followed a large box, and Lauren chased a tiny briefcase.

He ended up in front of Tran Marigold, and she ended up in front of the Hawkes Mansion.

Lauren couldn’t be more distraught, but she still had faith in the Lieutenant.

Kieran volunteered to shadow Josephine Sterling-Hawkes tomorrow. So late that night, he called in sick to prepare for the operation.

* * *

The woman was not as organized as her brother.

In fact, she was a mess. On broad daylight, since the moment she stepped out of her private car, she held a glass of vodka. She stumbled and struggled up the steps of her own building, with the bodyguard needing to support her all the way. He held back a stifle at the memory of Lieutenant Hawk’s drunken rampage.

With a fast prayer, he asked to the gods for the responsible Lieutenant to never become anything like his poor addicted mother.

Her eyes were bloodshot, her lips were blackened, and her face was hollow. She even looked worse than the drug dealer in Greychapel, and Kieran didn’t know what kind of drug she was on. Was this the doing of the liquid in the green vial?

That was the most probable answer as of the moment.

From where he was sitting, he observed the windows of her office. The woman did absolutely nothing but trash everything to the ground. How was someone like her a high member of the Phantom Scythe? Come lunchtime, her brother came and sorted out business. Kieran could see mild irritation on his face whenever he turned from his sister, but in front of her, he was all smiles.

Kieran chuckled at his drink. Snakes were snakes wherever they go.

He stood up to go to Tran Marigold. With the same tactic he used to poison Ms. Johnson of the Lonely Traveler’s Inn, he spiked the lead hostess’ drink. She wouldn’t be able to come to work tomorrow, where his lovely _beaut_ will be replacing her.

And like the perfectionist that he was, he made arrangements to make sure that she will not be able to call in sick from work once she lay down in her bed, indisposed.

Kieran disabled the head hostess’ telephone line.

* * *

Before the rest of the ensemble came, Lauren snuck into the locker room and grabbed the hostess’ costume. How convenient that they came with a mask that will help her with this infiltration. She grabbed the key to the hostess’ personal suite, and made a mad dash to enter the suite Kieran had reserved.

304, just beside the hostess’ personal suite, 303.

With haste, she put on her makeup the way the hostess would. She slid into the costume, an ivory burlesque underwear connected by a kinky under bust corset. With the heels, the gloves, and the matching high heels, she looked like she belonged in the underworld playground of illegal prostitution.

She slapped Kieran’s naughty hands away, which were desperate for her undivided attention. Admittedly, she would rather do him than their target, but a job was a job. Especially since it was her idea in the first place.

“It’s time. I’m expecting you not to make a scene while I’m working.”

The mask was elaborate and decorative, enough to hide her easily identifiable golden eyes from those who do not know her well. Topping her entourage like a crowning piece, she smiled in satisfaction.

_She looked like a proper succubus._

Kieran’s unrequited pining was amusing, until he handed her a small crystal clear vial with white powder. Psilocin. It was a hallucinogen, a drug banned by the state. She should have reprimanded him for engaging with the illegal trade of illegal substance, but she rather found it quite endearing with his subtle message of him not wanting his _mon amour_ to prostitute her pussy for some mere information.

So she’ll try not to. Kieran had always said that she was good with her hands, lips, and mouth.

* * *

Admittedly, they had acted quite rancidly in the infiltration last night. It was virtually impossible for them to keep their hands away from each other, especially after having close calls to adultery on both sides. And since Kieran was prudent enough to reserve a private room for them in advance, dirty and hardcore sex was an inevitable aftermath.

Too bad they were too horny to actually keep it in the room. They had to defile the carpets on the hallway of the brothel.

But other than that wanton degeneracy, it was safe to count the Tran Marigold infiltration a successful mission.

Besides their goal, a few more information had come to pass through their ears. First, the talk of suspending the tower massacre investigations; and second, whether by luck or by fortune, Kieran discovered what the green vial was used for.

Opium, distributed by the harlots, like treats from hell.

And to gather that information, all he needed to do was run his hands around some whore’s curves.

While Lauren had to use her hands, lips, and tongue, to make Ridgeway sing his secrets to her. Thank the gods for the psilocin that made the man trippy and high, lest she would have resorted to using her cunt and full on prostitute herself to the lawyer.

The first thing he mentioned was how the legalities of the shipment were transferred from Flemming’s to the Hawk Enterprise. “New management, I hear. But the shipments are still the same. As always, I still don’t know what’s being sent in, but since I get paid my dues, I just organize their legal documents, no signatories required. And the best part is I don’t leave a trail. Everything is handed to the Hawkes, and you won’t be able to trace me with those documents.”

Ridgeway got side tracked a bit, talking about some doctors he became friends with, before returning to Scythe matters.

He did not shy away from boasting that anything the messenger ordered him to do, he did, with the right amount of compensation. How before the arrival of _La Lune_ , his track record was perfect, since even the prosecutors were Scythe members.

What surprised her the most was when he divulged that the reason why cases get closed was because lawyers under the Scythe were given early access to evidence and were given choices on which to tamper and which to get rid of.

“There are detectives who are members of the Scythe?” Lauren had asked, her voice shaking behind the gagging sound from the back of her throat.

“Oh yeah, of course. I mean, ten years and the police can’t touch the Scythe? No one is that stupid,” Ridgeway groaned as Lauren made her magic work.

The man should have thank Lauren for being merciful enough to not bite his tiny dick off.

Lauren had been a proud member of the detective unit before her demotion to the patrol unit. And she thought that she had been making a difference. Turned out she, it never mattered. How many snakes were inside the 11th precinct?

That place was more than just her office.

_It was her safe space._

But in reality, it was nothing but a conglomeration of spies and liars.

The more _La Lune_ dug deeper and closer to the truth of the matter, the more complicated it all became. What began as an operation to topple down an anti-monarchy syndicate was now starting to feel like an operation to against the very government they wanted to protect.

How deep was this plague of dissidence and rebellion through the cracks of society?

How high was the level of corruption involved?

* * *

They had allotted one single day of rest, before they were to proceed to the next step of their infiltration. Lauren had curled up in her bed in the manor, contemplating on all the information they had so far, that she was beginning to dread the mission they had planned for tomorrow and the day after.

The Honolulu Company and the Hawkes Enterprise.

She closed her eyes and allowed herself to sleep. There was no point mulling over it tonight. She just needed to be ready for whatever she will learn when the time came.

* * *

As expected, they found letters between Viscount Redcliff and Felipe Sterling, finalizing the details of the River and Harbor Act. They took pictures of the dialogues detailing how to write the law that will allow the Scythe to use as loopholes.

It was, in essence, a pork barrel.

The most peculiar information they found was how the redevelopment fund, coming from the pockets of the taxpayers, was being used to build a canal somewhere on the border of Ardhalis City.

No such project was ever reported by the newspapers.

* * *

Lauren looked at herself in the lone mirror in the Purple Hyacinth’s cave. She had once again donned her Lune costume. It was quite nostalgic, looking at herself in these clothes once again.

A white fancy dress shirt under a yellow vest, paired with comfortable black slacks and a nice pair of heeled boots. Adding to the dramatic effect of the outfit was the high collared black trench coat, with a cute little bowl hat adorning her bunned crimson hair.

“Are you excited, _mon amour_?” Kieran said, whipping his coat to his back.

He had just put on his top coat and was admiring his own reflection in the pool. “I think I quite missed dressing up like this,” he said jovially, before shoving his sword in a custom attachment on his belt. “ **I’m not that fond of my Hyacinth outfit.** ”

Lauren let out a rasping laugh, before sighing. It was finally time to get this over with. She put on her mask and stretched her back. Her body was tired and her energy was spent. If this little infiltration of theirs would bear good news, then maybe, she would finally get some sleep.

“Then let’s get this show on the road, subordinate,” she smiled, once again taking her partner’s outstretched hand.

With hasty footsteps and quiet sneaking, the dynamic duo final reached the office of Josephine Sterling-Hawkes. With just a simple sweep of the area, Lauren knew that this was going to be either really easy or really hard.

She had known Mrs. Hawkes for more than ten years. The Hawkes were very close to the Sinclairs, as they were both merchant families with ties to high ranking members of the police. And for ten long years, she had watched William remain strong as a sturdy tree in the face of his adversities.

It was no secret that the matron of the Hawkes was a woman ailing with the terrible affliction of substance addiction, and it was very visible in her office. There were trashed papers on the ground, broken picture frames, and visible stains of vodka on the old carpet. The top drawer of her desk was shoved with empty green vials; opioids, as they had discovered from the whore that Kieran touched.

No wonder the Mrs. Hawkes looked like a wilting flower devoid of colour and vigour.

On the other side of the room, Kieran was busying himself picking up documents from the floor, a profound silence overtaking his demeanour.

“What is it?” Lauren asked, worried that he might have found something linking William to the Scythe.

With dreary eyes, he looked around the room. “Seems like it’s just a matter of time,” she heard him mutter. “But don’t mind me, the archivist in me is quite disgusted with the state of how the documents in here are arranged.”

Lauren continued to look through papers, until she found the documents Ridgeway was talking about. The legal documents regarding the importation of goods from abroad. There was no signatory yet, but Ridgeway did mention a new management.

She had thought about what it could possibly mean. Since the merchants at the tower and Flemmings had already been sent to their untimely deaths, someone new must be leading the importations. Obviously, the Mrs. Hawkes was indisposed, so it was either her brother or her son who could be handling things.

“No, not yet,” she shook her head. William was not part of the Hawkes family business, just as much as how she was not part of the Sinclair family business.

For a moment, she wondered if she can take over the family trade once this Phantom Scythe affair was done. Might as well become an entrepreneur engaging in honourable commerce rather than staying in a corrupt police force which hid under the façade of being righteous protectors.

She dug out another paper. It was a copy of transfer of 60% of the company’s shares, once held by Mrs. Hawkes. She was abdicating her position as CEO? Surely if something like that happened, it would be in the papers by now, especially since the Hawkes Enterprise was one of the richer companies that feed the economy of the country of Ardhalis.

_She bet that it was Felipe Sterling who would now take over._

“I got nothing on my end that can trace the Lieutenant back to being a member of the Phantom Scythe,” Kieran announced triumphantly. “Although I found something that might link us to someone higher up the Scythe’s corporate ladder.”

Lauren finished taking pictures of relevant documents. “What did you find?”

“I’m interested in this,” he handed a paper to her. It was a single document, but it had the seal of the state. “It’s a memorandum for all couriers and mailmen to never open packages, and to preserve the privacy of those who they are delivering to.”

_Failure to do so, and you will be punished with the full extent of the law._

Well that’s harsh. The post office was serious about this matter.

“There’s also this.”

It was a contract with the S&AEF. _Sake and Associates Engineering Firm._

The moon shined bright into the room, and Kieran offered his hand to his _beaut_. “Are you contented now, _mon amour_?”

With a satisfied smile, Lauren nodded. It’s been a week and a half since Viscount Redcliff’s ball. Either the Scythe had failed to recruit William into their little game of coup and corruption, or they simply did not bother asking the Lieutenant at all.

Like a fleeing thief fading in the dark, _La Lune_ once again disappeared into the shadows of the night. Little did they know, in the outskirts of the city, where the metal clogs and iron gears worked overnight in the industrial factories of the country, a single, game changing sentence was being printed as the headline of _Le Journal_ ’s front page for tomorrow.

WILLIAM HAWKES : NEW CEO OF HAWKES ENTERPRISE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read [Licentious Lovers](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25223173) by [ObliviateMyMind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObliviateMyMind/pseuds/ObliviateMyMind) if you want a more detailed description of the cave sex from this chapter ♥.
> 
> Read [Enamoured Ecstasy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24611461/chapters/59455141) by [LiviaKa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiviaKa/pseuds/LiviaKa) if you want a more detailed description of the brothel sex from this chapter ♥.
> 
> Read [Memoirs of a Courtesan ch. 02: The Suave Man](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24960736) if you want a more detailed description of Kieran and the Prostitute's interaction ♥.
> 
> ~~The smut is not here!~~
> 
> \---
> 
> Probably my longest chapter. This was hardcore, I got physically tired writing this. But its absolutely my favourite to write. ♥ Take it as a time lapse of sorts. Comment how the style and tone pls, so I can adjust accordingly if noiresque don't suit the story! I am really proud of this chapter ♥
> 
> Here is a plotgasm for you all. The detective energy really amps up high here. **Chokes on noiresque themes.**
> 
> Credits to [Livia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiviaKa/pseuds/LiviaKa) of the 18+ server. Me and her stayed up until like, 6 am to talk about this chapter and the smut in it.
> 
> Credits to [Briar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queen_BriarRose/pseuds/Queen_BriarRose) of the 18+ server. She allowed me to use her name BRIAR for this fic, inspired from a meme in the PH discord server.
> 
> \---
> 
> All characters of Purple Hyacinth belong to [Sophism](https://www.instagram.com/deadsophism/?hl=en) and [Ephemerys](https://www.instagram.com/ephemerys_ph/?hl=en).
> 
> [Read Purple Hyacinth on Webtoons](https://www.webtoons.com/en/mystery/purple-hyacinth/list?title_no=1621&page=1)
> 
> [Official Purple Hyacinth Discord](https://discord.gg/DfkfTxD)


	15. Solitary Stakeout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Ciao grandpa! You’ll be the first one I would go to once I find Harvey’s killer,” Kym smiled with a thumbs up.
> 
> The old man grunted, but he appreciated the hollow sentiment. “You seem like a good woman. But don’t go make promises that you can never keep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OST while reading: [GIORNO'S THEME IN THE STYLE OF JAZZ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4RJUSv8JPCA) by [Fonzi M](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCpQUBJrRfcpWLro4Oziff7Q).
> 
> _Loop the music ♥_

_Turn back the pendulum. Back to[Curious Cases](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24221365/chapters/59293615), and watch from the eyes of another._

After comparing the forensic data of the two cases, Kym Ladell snickered triumphantly. Finally, she had found a lead that will point her to the killer of her sister.

Ever since she stumbled upon Harvey’s dead body, all bloody and punctured, marred with traces of blood where there should have been none, she always had an inkling that this was not the first time she had seen this. The sight was familiar, like a throwback to happier times when she did not sleep alone in a room meant for two. After the initial shock had settled in, after the bout of _déjà vu_ had disappeared, she finally gathered the courage to check the data.

Swallowing down all emotions, she forced her lips to a grin. She was going to treat this like a murder mystery game, like a fun puzzle that she was again playing with after a very long time. There was no room for sentiments; there was no space for sensibilities.

_A repeat of what happened seven years ago must be avoided._

She took a deep breath to empty her mind. She had always been one for theatrics, and with this very scenario, she felt like she should emulate the greatest fictional detective of all time.

She she shoved a pipe to her lips and pulled out a top hat from seemingly out of nowhere and flopped it on her head.

“I am Sherlock Holmes,” she announced to her fellow patrol officers, raising her hands and standing up, as if she had just displayed a performance worthy of an ovation.

It was met with awkward silence, as if tumbleweed had just rolled out from the desert and into the precinct.

A deadpanned _Williame_ Hawkes, standing in front of her desk, was the sole audience of her sudden proclamation.

“Right. Uh. Can I borrow that?” he said flatly, pointing on the case file about Harvey.

Kym put a finger up, waving it side to side like a windshield wiper. “Dearest Lieutenant, is this how you treat your officers? Like we are vagrant criminals with no right to read anymore? Like a vulture you come in and take my books. My intellectual mind would be famished! Will you be my hero and take responsibility?”

_Williame_ looked so done with her for a second, but he actually laughed. A full hearty bout of laughs that they had never heard come from the stringent lieutenant before. Kym blinked, looking at Lauren from across her table. “I didn’t do anything! I didn’t break him,” she whimpered as Lauren shot her an accusing look.

She turned her head to the side and saw Lukas casting a dangerous smile at them, as if ordering her to shut _Williame_ up or he’d be laughing with them then cut them up.

And the last thing she wanted to hear was the Grumpy Cat laughing like the Joker, else she would go running from the precinct like a mad woman crying murder.

Thankfully, the usually brooding officer turned back to his folder, whatever it was he was reading. And while _Williame_ was still hunched over laughing, she saw Lauren stand up and hand a file to the other officer.

_Tran Marigold._

Whatever was Lauren doing with that file? Was the Phantom Scythe related to that place? As Lune, she might have some business investigating the shady brothel, but what would Lukas even need that file for?

He was acting more peculiar than usual, since he usually stayed on his lane.

Not to mention, Kym saw him and Lila walking out of the precinct doors side by side just a few days ago.

_Were they dating_? She shivered at the mere thought of the Grumpy Cat being sexual and intimate. Wait, scratch that _. The idea was not as crack as she thought_. Lukas was hot, but not as hot as her _Williame._

Finally, the lieutenant finished his laugh, and with a single finger, wiped the tears of joy from the corner of his eyes.

“This is exactly what I love about you.”

The moment that single line slipped out of his mouth, the precinct crash and burned.

The sergeant’s face flushed to exponential redness, and she fainted to the cold stone floor.

* * *

“I did not confess to her!” Kym heard, her eyes still closed as she felt herself lying down on a bed. With the faint smell of alcohol and disinfectant hanging out in the air, she figured that was in the precinct clinic. With her utmost self-control, she tried not to blush at the mere thought of _Williame_ carrying her like a princess to the first aid centre.

“Whatever, Will. That sounded like a confession to me,” she heard Lauren say, jabbing William’s stomach in the process.

“ **No, I don’t like her**.”

“Really, the first time you’re going to lie on my face, and it’s about your feelings of attraction for our dear watermelon loving racoon?”

The _unconscious_ officer can hear a teasing tone lacing the words of Lauren. Her best friend had the ability to tell lies, so was _Williame_ really into her? She squealed internally. Admittedly, on the surface, she had this special love hate dynamic with the lieutenant, with more love from her and more hate from him. Her affection, masked with theatrics, had always been met with ample disgust from him, so this was a welcome information.

It didn’t help that her feelings for him amplified after their fun one night stand a few weeks ago.

“I- No! It’s just that she’s refreshing. Invigorating. Like sunflowers.”

“Yeah, whatever, lover boy.”

“You know what, never mind Lauren. And there I was, not teasing you about finally having a decent man, and this is how you reciprocate my kindness?” _Williame_ exclaimed with exasperation.

“Whereas Kieran and I make a hot power couple, you and Kym make a more adorable ship, hence, the teasing.”

“I- I’m just very tired and her smiles make me feel fuzzy!”

Lauren held back a snort.

“Prime definition of cute.”

“I-”

An image flashed inside her mind. _Mrs. Kym Hawkes_ , in an elegant white wedding gown, walking down the aisle to be forever tied down to her _Williame_.

She was literally drooling.

“See, look at how cute Kym is. Don’t you want to just protect her?”

A small pause fell into the room, changing the atmosphere of the conversation. With a serious voice, _Williame_ quietly answered with hardened dedication, “Yes, I will protect Kym Ladell from any harm that might befall her.”

The conviction of his words felt like a vow to her ear. As if he had gone down on one knee and promised her till death do they part.

* * *

Each step she took had an extra bounce today. She was released from the clinic by lunch time, and was able to join today’s round of patrol. Kym didn’t mention to her colleagues how she heard the discussion between Lauren and her _Williame_ , and in turn, they didn’t inform her of the semi riot that the _William Hawkes Fanclub_ caused during her sleep.

Today was a good day to be happy. The sun shined bright, the city was peaceful, and _Williame_ liked her back. That should have been enough to make her happy, but the crowning glory of her day was discovering that her sister’s killer might potentially be the same one that struck down the pitiable Harvey Wood.

Going by the autopsies alone, there were a lot of things different between the states of the two bodies when they were found. While Harvey died of the golden viper venom, inflicted with a precise slice on the side of the neck, her sister had to endure torture, before finally getting a poisoned cut at the same place.

The killer left a signature: a deliberate incision on a vein of the neck with a blade laced with poison.

She stopped her skipping when from a distance, she saw a familiar old man.

“Grandpa Wood!” Kym waved, separating from her unit to chase after him. She ran, following the man to some random alley, where he stopped. His eyes looked sad and glassy, as if he had been crying. After a few moments of blank staring, he dug his hands deep into his pockets to take out a green vial, and chugged its contents down before throwing the glass to the ground and breaking it with his feet.

Wasn’t that the very same item black market item that the police couldn’t get their hands on?

She radioed her unit to inform them that she’d check on something.

The man coughed out his lungs, hunching over to his walking stick, and slumped to the disgusting pavement, before he broke down crying.

Kym’s heartstrings were tugged. She knew how it was to feel when family dies. She knew how the man would have preferred to be left alone in his sorrow. But she was a police officer. She was the face of Ardhalis law and order. And even if she felt like intruding into the man’s quiet mourning, it was her responsibility to make sure that he went home safe.

She owed it to Harvey.

Even though they weren’t that close, he was still a friend. He was innocent and pure.

_He died a hero_.

“Hi, sir, are you alright?” she chimed happily, like the beam of sunshine that she was.

She extended a helping hand to the older gentleman. The moment he lifted his face, Kym was horrified at how ghastly he looked. This was beyond depression. This was something else.

“Oh, a police officer. My grandson died because the police force was not able to protect him.”

That statement hit home, and Kym felt a pang of ache stab her right in the heart. There was a time when she was also extremely bitter of the system that failed to protect and bring justice for her sister, but being resentful had only brought her nothing but a downward spiral to blind pain. As a proud member of the police force, she now realized that being the symbol of peace was an occupational hazard.

This was the life they chose.

“I want to help you get home.”

“My grandson had a girlfriend, and she did not even attend his funeral.”

Well, that’s the first she ever heard of that. Kym was under the impression that Harvey died a virgin.

“I’m sure she was just heartbroken and couldn’t make it due to her grief.”

The older man coughed at Kym’s face, sniffing his tears away. This was a sad way to deal with loss, but then again, there was no right or wrong way to deal with death. “Did she even like him back at all? Did he ever felt loved by anyone else besides me? What if she broke his heart?”

“That’s impossible. Your grandson is a charm.”

She pulled the man up from the ground, and he snivelled at her, pointing the direction of his house.

He did stop crying and proceeded to reminiscence on the days Harvey was still alive. His voice was full of vigour. It was obvious that he loved and adored the late officer. Apparently, he was a good grandchild, supporting him in old age when there was no other family left for the both of them.

Now, he was all alone in this world.

“I always told him that I was going to die anyway. He did not need to try so hard. It was all my fault,” he sighed heavily.

“Oh hush now grandpa, of course it’s not your fault. He died doing his job.”

“He did not need to work so hard so that he can buy me the miracle medicine. How am I supposed to make it up to him now?”

“I could find the killer for you,” she perked at him with a wild grin.

Kym should be feeling downtrodden and sympathetic, but this was an opportunity to dig. She can go to extreme lows and perform an emotional interrogation. Her insensitivity was taking over, just like how she usually treated dead bodies and heinous crimes. Like some murder mystery game itching to be solved.

What if there was a motive to Harvey’s death? This sad man might lead her to a clue.

“Don’t lie to make me feel better.”

“Pish posh. Okay, so did you know anyone who would have wanted to kill him?” she asked energetically as she supported the man through the busy streets.

The old man looked offended at the prospect of her question. “My Harvey was a sweet boy. I don’t think he ever had enemies.”

“You said he had a girlfriend, and a mean one to boot.”

The old man frowned. “Who I never met. But he did tell me every time he went on a date with her. A mere thirty four times in two years.”

That’s surprisingly few.

“He never hid anything from me, but how come he never even introduced her? Must be bad company. Oh, what if she involved him in a bad crowd? My poor Harvey.”

An interesting angle worth looking into.

“What makes you say she was a bad person?”

“I asked my dearest grandchild what she looked like. All he ever gave me was that she had crimson eyes. Oh, how horrible. She had the eyes of the devil. She was probably a snake in disguise.”

Red eyes. She mentally profiled every criminal record they had in the archives, but she did not remember anyone having such features. It was such a peculiar colour for one’s eyes, that it would have stood out.

_Wait._

She had encountered dangerous crimson eyes before. So rare she had just seen them once in her entire life, in a shady tavern in the district of Greychapel.

Ms. Bella, the date of Lauren’s arch nemesis Tim Sake.

Interesting. Since the moment she had first seen the woman, Kym felt irrational hatred towards her.

The first course of action would be to stalk the woman. Another stakeout, this time, outside the Grim Goblin.

Finally, they arrived in the Wood’s residence. It was humble and poor. She was quite sorry for the old man, now all alone in this world. But there was nothing more she can do for him.

Except to solve her murder mystery game.

“ _Ciao_ grandpa! You’ll be the first one I would go to once I find Harvey’s killer,” Kym smiled with a thumbs up.

The old man grunted, but he appreciated the hollow sentiment. “You seem like a good woman. But don’t go make promises that you can never keep.”

* * *

After delicately planning her stakeout, Kym was finally ready.

The sergeant traded her usual airy getup to darker slacks and a black turtleneck. She had pulled her bangs up, pinned on the top of her head with criss cross bobby pins, and her face obscured by a navy blue scarf wrapped around her mouth. And on her pocket, safely tucked, was her golden pocket watch.

Kym pulled her dark kent blazer closer to her body as she pushed herself closer to the wall; closer to the shadows. She sat on a dusty crate box in a deserted alley across the Grim Goblin, flipping the pages of a lewd magazine she found lying on the ground. Lowering the edge of her deerstalker hat to the tip of her nose, she raised the magazine up to her face, peering behind it to watch everyone who came in and went out of the tavern’s humble door.

She didn’t notice it when she and _Williame_ ate there before, but now, she realized that half the people who swung by the tavern had criminal records, were on the watch list, or were red tagged. What a sketchy place. She made a mental reminder to check out who owned this den of dissidents.

Kym instinctively fiddled with her pocket watch. Crime Alley, where her sister was found dead, was just a few blocks away.

From here on out, she will hence dub the poison murderer as the Viper Assassin.

It was ruled out that her sister’s death was an isolated incident, but as the years went by, she was actually the first casualty in a string of poison related deaths. The Viper Assassin’s maiden voyage. There was a time when she thought that maybe the Purple Hyacinth was responsible for the murder, but as time went by during her days in the police academy, she finally realized that the modus operandi didn’t match.

With that realization, she hit a dead end. This murderer had no official name, nor was he as popular as the fearsome Hyacinth.

She pouted as she kept waiting for nothing. Was this what Lauren and Kieran did? Gosh, this was quite boring. She always imagined vigilante activities to be a bit more suspenseful and full of action. But there she was, just sitting down on some filthy crate like the loitering drunkards and the sorry homeless. Bella showed no signs of coming, and it was getting very late. Kym was ready to pack up and go when she finally saw something interesting.

Tim Sake ducked out of the Grim Goblin for a smoke break.

Finally, something exciting.

She watched Sake, puffing out large whiffs of smoke from his elegant cigar, joined by a young man with snow white hair. He looked really familiar. The two men were talking passive aggressively, with the white haired man threatening Sake with a blade during three separate occasions. With her eagle eyes, she read their lips to catch some of the words from their discussion.

_Tower, dead, supplies, vial, Josephine, import, hyacinth, Honolulu, weapons, news, doctors, apostle, Evans, write, assassin, Carmine Camelia, prostitutes, Ridgeway, Arthingham, funds, laws_.

_Officer Sinclair._ And this time, the vaguely familiar man slit a shallow wound near the throat of Sake.

He didn’t drop dead. The other man was not the Viper Assassin.

Kym furrowed her eyebrows as she realized something. Tim Sake was a Phantom Scythe member. Lauren was right all along, and Hermann had demoted her? No wonder she turned to being Lune. She held the key to the truth yet people disregard her facts.

_Why did they talk about Lauren thought?_

_Holy fuck_ , this was dangerous. What was she thinking? She was well aware that the Viper Assassin might be a member of the Scythe, but it did not occur to her that the Grim Goblin was a major hideout of the syndicate.

Her heart began to pound in her chest. Under her gloves, her hands started to sweat. They began walking towards from where she was spying from.

_Fuck, she can’t die here._

She bit her lip, hoping to not be discovered. Her parents will not be able to bear the death of another child. She closed her eyes as they neared her spot, but they just continued walking.

“Are you meeting the _Mistress Briar_ tomorrow?”

“We just met yesterday. So no, she has a schedule with some policeman. Said that he’s a potential candidate for another spy.”

“More than half of the police force is now loyal to the Scythe. Just remember to try to get some intel to us.”

“Why not ask your newly inducted boy? He’s a ranked officer.”

“He hasn’t proven his loyalty yet. Frankly, he only said yes because Belladonna threatened to hurt his girlfriend. But he’ll come around. They always do.”

“Still a doormat ~~simp~~. But he had always been like that even when we were younger. Speaking of which, I had someone buy out the information about Flemming’s whereabouts.”

“Oh? And what did you sell them?”

“That Flemmings died via the golden viper venom. It was a decent trade. The info I pawned off them was just as good.”

The two men disappeared into the dark as they descended deeper into the alley.

A single sweat bead dropped from Kym’s brow as her lips broke to a thin smile. Her amber eyes glowed in the darkness of night. Jackpot. The adrenaline almost killed her, but finally, she had a lead. If she continued on this trail, she can find the Viper Assassin.

_She can at last give justice to the unsung fallen heroes of Ardhalis_.

Kym Ladell paused as she passed by Crime Alley. Fiddling her golden pocket watch, a memento from happier and simpler times, she hummed a happy tone as she started to skip back home. The clues to her murder mystery game were revealing themselves to her. And this was where the fun would begin.

Tonight was indeed a good night to be happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read [Wretched Witch ch. 01-02](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24754834/chapters/59851318) to see Harvey and Belladonna's relationship in the past ♥.
> 
> \---
> 
> AS OF THIS UPDATE  
> 1) PHILIP STERLING'S NAME HAS BEEN UPDATED TO FELIPE STERLING  
> 2) CERULEAN WAS UPDATED TO TURQUOISE
> 
> Throwbacks to [Operation Stakeout ch. 02: Risque Romance](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23836363/chapters/57549784#workskin). ♥
> 
> \---
> 
> Credits to [Briar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queen_BriarRose/pseuds/Queen_BriarRose) of the 18+ server. She allowed me to use her name BRIAR for this fic, inspired from a meme in the PH discord server.
> 
> ___
> 
> All characters of Purple Hyacinth belong to [Sophism](https://www.instagram.com/deadsophism/?hl=en) and [Ephemerys](https://www.instagram.com/ephemerys_ph/?hl=en).
> 
> [Read Purple Hyacinth on Webtoons](https://www.webtoons.com/en/mystery/purple-hyacinth/list?title_no=1621&page=1)
> 
> [Official Purple Hyacinth Discord](https://discord.gg/DfkfTxD)


	16. Sweet Suspicion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A small idea crept in Officer Randall's mind, but it would be preposterous, dubious, and honestly, quite hilarious.
> 
> There was no way the Hyacinth was part of La Lune. A single man can only be one, or the other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: FOR DUBIOUS MORAL DYLAN, Strong and vulgar language
> 
> OST while reading: [JAZZ NOIR](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PEI2zet48Uc) by [Dr. SaxLove](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCNJFXYXkXt_P8bJUxb21MpA).
> 
> _Loop the music ♥_

_Turn back the pendulum. Back to[Curious Cases](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24221365/chapters/59293615), and watch from the eyes of another._

Officer Lukas Randall had changed his clothes, trading his blue police coat for a nice black peacoat; his brown boots for a pair of darker ones.

Usually, he went to work by foot or by commute, as he’d rather not be infuriated by the terrible rush hour traffic jams and the illiterates who for the love of the gods, should have never been given a driver’s license in the first place. So he thanked his sensible self for choosing to be a member of law enforcement rather than to be part of traffic enforcement.

The officer inspected himself in his rear view mirror, brushing his bangs from his sharp eyes, before smirking at himself with satisfaction. His dark eyes dilated as he checked himself out, ready for to investigate a potential threat to society.

People usually judged Lukas by his dark brooding attitude. The Grumpy Cat, they called him, named from the celebrity feline with the perpetual resting frown face.

Admittedly, he helped fuel his _negative_ reputation by acting like an old man who cannot function without coffee and silence.

_How he relished to end the lives of those who perpetuated noise pollution within earshot of his work station, especially in the early hours of the day._

But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t bask in ridiculous rumours and outlandish hearsay. Spicy tea always held some form of truth behind them, and he was always keen on discovering the realities behind misleading facades and watered down stories.

Tonight, the puzzle that he was keen to unravel was that of Lila Desroses, cute secretary by day, potential turncoat by night. Lukas’ discovery of a black market item in her dresser raised massive red flags and made him look at her in a new light.

_With suspicion and utmost distrust._

For the past week, he began to notice her little quirks that he once simply ignored. What got him the most was her ability to pry information behind the guise of curious interest, her ability to fuel the flames of gossip when talking to the scandal hungry women of the precinct, and her innate ability divert conversations to a topic of her choice.

For the most part, these were skills that normal tattle mouth women excelled in. It was a shame that the investigation department weren’t consist of solely gossip mongers and personally offended housewives; had that been the case, each and every investigation that was handled by the precinct would have been closed within an hour or less.

> “Lack of evidence, every single time. Those detectives should just be skewered in sticks since they are all so incompetent.”

And indeed they were, because just by reading the reports made by their incompetent investigation department, a new angle just formed in his mind. He remembered the way Lila led him to her house, to her room, through her attractive body. How expertly she kissed him, methodological, so perfectly, drawing out the lust in him in mere seconds of slight contact.

_Like a siren singing to lure unfortunate sea voyagers to their untimely doom._

Since ancient times, women had always been used as tools for war, hiding as mere flesh and sex toys for the frivolous and prideful men to play around with and fuck. Members of this so called superior gender drank alcohol, got intoxicated, and lowered their guards; spilling secrets that can change the tides of the battle just to impress a pretty piece of cunt they cheaply paid an hour for.

But Lukas was smart; Lukas was not easy. And he was not that desperate for sex, at least, not enough to betray his own thoughts and comrades. When Lila rested her head on his chest, twirling her long fingers lightly above his pecs, he kept his mouth shut when she asked him a query.

_“Who do you think Lune is in the office?”_

It was a very particular question. Coupled with the little green vial that she could have surrendered in the office as evidence, there were very little merits in divulging to his thoughts and ideas to the once reliable secretary.

_“Why do you want to know?”_ he had asked in a low voice, carefully baiting her to a second sexy rendezvous, as he traced a finger sensually across her naked back. _“Maybe I’ll tell you next time.”_

In a game of manipulation, the winner will be the one who revealed their cards early, and Lukas was in a mission to discover Lila’s ace in the hole. Yesterday, when he agreed to spend another night with her, she particularly said that she has a busy schedule, so Friday will be her free day to spend some time with him.

Wherever she was going tonight must be relevant to her mysteriously jam packed schedule. And if his guess was right, she would lead him to the underground prostitution ring that had long eluded the law.

Lukas neatly folded his police uniform and tucked them in a dark bag, neatly placing them in the backseat of his car. From following her on foot for a few days now, he discovered that the elegant café across where he was parked was Lila’s to go to shop after office hours. Multiple rich and famous personalities came in and out the door.

It was an establishment way above Lila’s usual pay grade. The Swallowtail Brasserie, the only butler _café_ in the country, was owned by the notoriously loud Lady Arthingham, the unfortunate widow of the late Count of Arthingham. The woman, who inherited everything her husband had, was known to have grown madder after each passing day.

After digging a bit more about the esteemed restaurant, he discovered that it was the very same one where Lila’s father had worked in as a professional barista for the last fifteen years.

Lukas sipped on his black coffee, still hot and steaming, as he watched the ingress of the extravagant storefront. On cue, 6 pm sharp, Lila came, as always. The host, a youthful butler with an extraordinarily large nose, greeted her with a winning smile and opened the door to welcome her in.

As a police officer, he was learned with the use of listening devices and bugs. Earlier, when she went to do some errands for Detective March, he took the liberty of planting one on the underside of her bag, safely hidden in between the lacy seams.

So as he waited, he pulled out a transmitter and flicked the radio on, fine-tuned to receive signals from the bug. Static came, the buzzing noise filling Lukas’ ears, before it settled into audible voices.

“Good evening, Lila,” an enthusiastic male voice came through the radio.

“ _Charmante_ , Dylan. How are you holding up these days, _luv_?”

For a moment, Lukas ran through his mental database of criminals and red tagged civilians with the name Dylan. None too relevant came to mind.

“Could be better, _ma rose de bruyère préférée_. Any news you have for me?”

Lila giggled, her laughter gentle and sweet. “Why, aren’t you impatient tonight? I have nothing new to tell you. It’s still as I last described.”

For a moment, they stopped conversing, and the typical ambience of a coffee shop lulled through the spying officer’s headset. The pair on the other end of the transmission was ordering coffee from their assigned butler.

Lukas was reclining his car seat, fishing his ascot cap from some dark corner to put it over his eyes for a quick rest, when he heard Lila humming to resume their conversation. “If I have a complaint, it’s that you’re attachment issues are getting quite overboard,” she sighed. “You even called her name the last time we had sex. If I wasn’t in this line of work, I would have slapped you.”

“This is why you are my favorite, _Madame Bruyère_.”

“I allow our little games, Dylan, because you don’t think that you can buy me with money. But don’t think of getting attached to me. After all, I am just a replacement, and you are just my client.”

“ _Oui_ , _bien-aimé_. We both know that we are _close_ friends. I am like a plant deprived of my water and sunlight. And you are the artificial fertilizer that invigorates me in her stead.”

Lila chuckled lightheartedly. “At least you’re an amazing writer if we don’t count your awful flirty floral metaphors.”

“Thank you for the praise. As always, glad you read my articles. I am quite proud of my writing,” the other party responded in an doting tone.

“Especially how you sow propaganda? Phenomenal work, I can’t believe you’ve only been doing it for three years.”

“I am a tad bit overworked these days. See how I’m relying on you to spy on her every actions?”

“You complain to me about getting snipped in the 7th’s operation, yet you force into me your personal requests,” she hummed. “If you really want her, then just introduce yourself.”

The officer tapped his fingers on the transmitter. Lila was spying on someone in the office, a female coworker of theirs, for this shady character called Dylan. His mind went back to how she had been giving passing comments on Sinclair and White’s relationship.

Was it possible that Sinclair was the other man’s target?

“You make it sound so easy. But it’s more complicated than you think, _ma bruyère rose_. Although you did give me a swell idea. Maybe I should just force myself on her.”

“That’s a disgusting of you to think that. I’m inclined to advice you against such a rambunctious crime.”

The man’s laugh rapped through Lukas’ headphones. It was maniacal, dark, and generally unnerving. Even Lukas, who had the reputation of being scary and unapproachable, was a bit thrown off by this Dylan’s aura. “Come come, Lila, are we not in hell already? What more is an additional sin or two to add to my belt of achievements?

“Do try to remain a civilized man. We are a syndicate, an opposition; not an unorganized wild horde of pathological anarchists,” she aired with genuine concern.

A perfect deduction on Lukas’ part. So she indeed was a member of the Phantom Scythe. And so was this other man, this Dylan with the dangerous persona, who was probably targeting Officer Sinclair for personal reasons.

“Hush hush, I’ve done way worse and you know that. Claiming what is rightfully mine should not be above assassination and mass murder,” he clapped. “Anyway, do you think I can steal her from him?”

“He’s quite the looker though. And I don’t really think you should be interfering with a direct order for him.”

“I’ve known the man for years. I can beat him.”

“He’s still the Purple Hyacinth. Unlike you, he can freely kill anyone, and he’d have the support to cover it up. You don’t really have that privilege anymore, not after Hanbury Street.”

Lukas’ mental gears began to turn. If Sinclair was who this Dylan was after, did that mean that the Purple Hyacinth was the newest addition to the precinct, archivist Kieran White? That doesn’t sound right. Because Sinclair and White were his prime suspects for the identities of the vigilantes _La Lune_. Perhaps this Dylan was into another person? But that can’t be right either, not the way Lila was snooping around.

Another thought brushed through his mind, but that would be even more absurd. Lieutenant Hawkes cannot be the Purple Hyacinth, can he?

He pushed the thought aside. There were too more variables to consider before finalizing his list of candidates.

And were they talking about the massacre of December 24, xx24? What exactly happened back then? What was this Dylan’s relationship with that event? More importantly, Lila knew the identity of the country’s most feared assassin? What a surprise. He thought that she’d be a bottom feeder in the lower hierarchy of the Scythe.

“So he’s really doing his job properly?” this Dylan continued.

“And a good job at it. He’s stringing her as if he’s really her lover. They’re quite romantic, if I do say so myself. The Hyacinth is an accomplished actor,” she prattled with awe. “If he was not an assassin, I believe he would be a decent intel collector and spy.”

Romance wasn’t on the lieutenant’s daily routine, so that scrapped Hawkes off his list fast. Which narrowed it down to White.

Still, that doesn’t explain why the archivist would warn him about being careful in the precinct. Was he referring to himself? No. If he was really the Hyacinth, he would have long died like Harvey Wood.

The other man scoffed. “Why the Leader even gave him that sort of mission, I don’t know. I could have done it just as easily. He’s not really the espionage type.”

“Neither are you. You’re just jealous because he gets a pass at the woman you’ve been pining for,” she teased.

“He doesn’t even deserve to look at her direction,” he snarled.

“I’m not going in between you and the Hyacinth’s little girlfriend squabble. And why are you even dreading? He’s just putting up an act. You can claim the woman once he discards her.”

“I’ll kill him if he makes her cry.”

Even on the other side, the spying officer can hear the venom spilling out of the other man’s voice.

Lila just exhaled loudly, before continuing in an amicable voice, “Hopefully, this isn’t what you called me down for, Dylan. I have an appointment in a few hours. And you know my time is precious.”

“ _Bien sur, ma bruyère rose_. Then to business we proceed. Any word on Lune yet?”

“Nothing I haven’t reported.”

“Interesting. They’re quite perceptive, that pair. I’m sure I traced them back properly to the 11th precinct. Yet not one of the spies there can sniff them out,” he replied in an amused tone. “They’re quite elusive, like ghosts of the night.”

Lukas opened his eyes and sat up a bit. Now that’s a very relevant piece of information. _La Lune_ , those crazy vigilantes that have been bringing the ineffective justice system to humiliation. They were really in the office with him? He had his prime list of suspects, mainly Sinclair and White, but with the new information about the Hyacinth, he was beginning to doubt his original theory.

Thought there was the concerning bit of fact that was slipped. It was really concerning how Lila and this Dylan were casually talking about the many more spies there were in the police department.

> “The precinct walls have eyes and ears everywhere.”

That was what White had said to him. And whether his warning was general wisdom or an informed advice, he’d be sure to thread forward with utmost caution from now on.

The pair being spied on talked like lovers whispering sweet nothings after talking all night. She was patient with him, with all his whining, with all his complaining. Even if he was dragging the mood down by ranting, she’d still be a ray of sunshine to him.

Lila was every bit a happy person as she was a Scythe loyalist.

And Lukas didn’t know why, for the love of the gods, he was feeling a little bit irritated and, he dare not admit, a little tinge of unjustified jealousy. Sure, she was a spy. But he had been rather fond of her, the cute secretary Lila Desroses, the most tolerable presence in the entire precinct.

“So, do you have any plans on Friday?” the man called Dylan asked.

“Yes, actually, I made an appointment with a cute little officer,” Lila said brightly.

Lukas Randall, famed as the precinct’s Grumpy Cat, reprimanded his traitorous heart for skipping a beat the moment she called him cute. If anything, he had to hurry cutting off this little bits of sentiments he had left for her. She was a dangerous siren, and his dedication to the good and righteous was what was grounding him from falling over the abyss.

“He’s potential spy material. And I must say, he might have leads to Lune, since he’s quite the observant man.”

The officer scrunched his face. In what universe did she think that he would willingly join the Phantom Scythe? Lila miscalculated by hundreds. Beyond the flattery garnered by praising him, she was severely underestimating his loyalty to the state.

But she’s welcome to try to attempt to sway him _._

He’ll be ready. By Friday, he’d be sure to see her as just an enemy and nothing more.

_An opponent, in their little game of chess._

“For free? I’m offended. I thought I am the only recipient of the backstage pass?”

“Oh, don’t worry, _luv._ You are still my favorite in this world. And I am yours?” The endearment in her voice was apparent.

“Until I get my trophy, her, my lovely daisy. But before then, you are the best consolation prize anyone could ask for, _ma bruyère rose._ ” And his tone reciprocated it back.

The bell from the egress rang, and Lukas pulled his hat out of his eyes to eye the couple exiting Swallowtail Brasserie. From his sunken chair, he peered to see Lila, now dressed in an elegant knee length pink flapper dress, all sparkly and shiny, paired with bedazzled heels. Her hair was curled and gelled, her spectacles discard. And beside her, this Dylan-

The officer raised an eyebrow. Well well well. Things were getting thicker.

It was the photographer that was hired to cover and write about the mandatory self-defense seminar a few weeks back. White hair and a missing finger, constantly talking to the secretary for the event instructions? He’d remember that face anywhere.

Lukas made a mental note to look for that article in Le Journal to discover who this Dylan was.

A black limousine was waiting in front of the restaurant, and the snow haired man opened the door for her.

“I am picking up J.C.R.,” he heard through his headset, watching their interactions from across the road. Lila was patting her curls and was putting on a deep red shade of lipstick.

“Ah, of course, the dirty old man. I trust you have the list of papers we need to collect from him?”

“I’ve been in the intel business far longer than you, I know what I’m doing,” she replied in a singsong, moving in to kiss Dylan’s cheek, leaving a red kiss mark on the other man’s face. “Have to run. Pick any whore on Tran Marigold for Friday, I’ll pay for your booking.”

“A replacement of a replacement? Lila, you can be cruel at times. You deprive me.”

“That I am, but I’m a working woman. So I’ll meet you on Saturday instead. Try not to be impatient, _luv_.”

Dylan responded by kissing Lila’s hand. “Then don’t forget to gather more news about _ma marguerite_ , _ma bruyère rose_.”

He pulled out a pristine red rose from inside his coat and handed it to Lila.

“Always the charmer.”

She climbed inside the limousine, which began to drive away.

From the tinted windows of his car, in the shaded part of the street with no lamps, Lukas sipped the last of his coffee after watching the exchange with grim amusement. Lila almost got him, but that was a fatal mistake he will never repeat ever again.

He turned on his ignition. It was time to follow the scent of a thorny rose bush.

* * *

With careful distance, Lukas followed the vehicle to the middle of downtown Ardhalis, where the limousine stopped in front of a dainty looking coffee shop. A man stepped out, smiled, and climbed in.

Lukas knew that face. He had seen him before, in court, back when the convicts on the tower’s 15th floor were alive and free.

_Atty. J.C. Ridgeway._

Apparently, also a member of the Phantom Scythe. How deep had this organization seeped into the depths of society? How far up was the level of corruption within the chain of monarchy?

“Mistress Briar, I’m so glad that my wife was finally able to book you,” he heard Ridgeway say in a very formal voice. “I’m looking forward to your performance tonight, since you never disappoint.”

_Mistress Briar_? Was that her codename? No wonder Dylan called her his little briar rose.

Lila’s giggle came, like small chimes from an angel’s tambourine. He could imagine her, covering her lips as she licked them behind her hand, batting her eye in false shyness, the way she had done during their one night stand. “Well, I will service you to the best of my abilities. After all, your wife did pay me and my girls generously.”

“Of course, you’re worth the cash. You are even more expensive than the lead hostess of Tran Marigold.”

“Oh you flatter me, _monsieur_. I exist to serve a man of your stature.”

The seduction laced in her voice was a stark contrast to her usual sweetness. She was like wine, sweet and fruity, but intoxicating and arousing. Any base man would fall to her charms, and she would bite into them, like a siren, and drown them, removing all rationale and sense.

Lukas heard a few rustlings, before Lila’s voice came on again.

“I can start now.” Her voice was silent, dangerous, _bewitching_. It was followed by the soft sounds of wet kisses, light slapping, and in a few short minutes, needy moaning and delicate whimpers.

Well, fuck him. Another perfect deduction. So she indeed was a member of the Scythe’s prostitution ring.

What a debauche display, having rambunctious sex in the middle of the streets. He had taken her for a bondage enthusiast, but she was also an exhibitionist. Were the glass even tinted, or could passersby see Lila getting drilled by some random man inside the car?

The erotic sounds were enough to trigger Lukas’ imagination.

Vulgar thought passed into his mind. Lila, the little slut, would be straddling Ridgeway in the back seat, the lawyer’s knobby hands ripping her clothes away. She would allow him to trail kisses across her body, from the nook of her neck down to her welcoming bosoms. He would palm his hands around her, while his tongue would play with her.

Deeper and faster.

Like the paid whore that she was.

Lukas gritted his teeth at the thought of her naked body. Admittedly, he could feel himself getting turned on by her lewd moans. Her voice was like the song of a deadly luring siren, but as long as he’d stay grounded to his morals and ideals, enjoying what she offered was within reasonable bounds.

His lips curled to a smirk as he listened to her breathless whispers and desperate begging to be touched and violated. He imagined the last time they had sex, when she was above her, dominating him as he was tied down, whipping him in places he never knew he would get arousal from. She had taken command, and when she ordered him to make her cum, _tres bien_ , he responded.

“Gods, you really have the tightest cunt in the city,” Ridgeway grunted in sync with another sound of ass slapping. A sentiment Lukas can agree with. Lila’s pussy can even make men with erectile dysfunction cum in mere seconds. It almost made wish the end of the week came earlier.

_Friday was going to be fun._

“I am all for the use of such an amazing lawyer like you,” he could her hear breathing.

“Well, I do deserve this since I do good work with everything the Messenger makes me do.”

“Of course. You did tell me last time of a new commissioned work,” she said in between gasps and moans.

Ridgeway groaned, the sound of flesh clapping getting louder. “Yes, it’s for the Hawkes Enterprise, oh, gods!”

Lukas zoned out their synced orgasm. These prostitutes were not just mere courtesans, they were most probably also trained in the art of espionage. Whether or not Lila was involved in whatever branch of operation Ridgeway was, he did not know yet.

But what did the Scythe have to do with Lieutenant Hawkes’ family company? The fact that there was involvement at all was baffling, as the late Chief Hawkes was murdered by the Hyacinth.

The car entered a gate on the upper east side of uptown Ardhalis. The neighborhood was decent, upscale and lavish. Each plot of land had a single detached multi storey Victorian house, surrounded by urban landscaping and well-manicured lawns.

He parked a few good meters away from the Ridgeway Home and explored the terrain. Across the street was a park, dimly lit with low lamps, with barely any people walking, and tall bushy trees he can climb and hide in.

Perfect.

Lukas turned off the ignition. From his compartment, he retrieved a small sling bag from and checked his supplies. A pair of binoculars, a black face mask, and a bottled water.

After throwing his ascot cap on and carefully concealing his face with the mask, his ensemble was complete. With a quick dash and jump, he climbed up into a tall tree with bushy leaves and thick branches. The officer inspected his vantage, standing up thirty meters from the ground, the cool night wind brushing his face as he smugly smiled at how smooth his reconnaissance was going.

From his position, he can see the well-lit interior of the Ridgeway home that was hidden by the walled perimeter of the property.

Lukas perched on the branch, slinging his foot over the side, and leaned to the tree trunk and took out his radio, fixing the frequency to be able to tap into the bug he placed. He whipped out his binoculars, raising it to his eyes and expecting to see some scandalous images of Lila’s perfect body, naked and servicing the corrupt lawyer.

He did not expect to see a party of naked women fucking each other in an organized orgy.

The officer didn’t know whether to be impressed, amazed, or be disgusted. He himself was not a man who had conforming sexual tastes, but twenty pretty cunts in one night was a festival he would never attend first hand.

Needless to say, there was no reason to not enjoy the show he was witnessing.

He took notes from the conversations these harlots communicated behind their rabble of moans and groans. _Prostitution, green vial, hostess, Tran Marigold, Le Journal, drugs._

All he had now could be considered hearsay gathered under very illegal methods. But it didn’t matter to him. If the investigation unit was too incompetent to get any of their job descriptions done, then he’d step up and do his own perusal of the matter at hand.

And he’d be damned if he didn’t enjoy every second of it.

* * *

The officer rummaged through his stack. He lived in a decently sized loft, somewhere near suburban Ardhalis. Contrary to what most people would imagine his house to be, it wasn’t dark, nor filled with hellish deities that they thought he worshiped.

Lukas Randall’s house was that of earth tones and plants. Lots of plants that breathe life into his rooms, filling his living space with life and air. His curtains were pulled, with the crescent moon shining through his floor length window. The officer’s house was like a scene from a nice dream.

His abode was spotless and bright, except a tiny room dedicated to his notes and compilations. There he sat, fishing an edition of Le Journal from a few weeks ago.

THE 11TH PRECINCT HOSTS ITS FIRST SELF DEFENSE SEMINAR

The segment was printed on the eleventh page of the newspaper. At the bottom of the article, it was signed DL, with a little sigil of a rose beside it.

Diligently, he tore through every article in every section in every edition of _Le Journal_ he owned, and read everything penned by the same name. Dylan R. was a good writer, but which of these were fabricated lies made to sway the opinion of the mass? Finally, he reached the very first article published by the man.

PURPLE HYACINTH MAKES HANBURY STREET RED WITH BLOOD

What sort of fear sowing headline was this? And what parts of this article were propaganda and truth?

* * *

The Tran Marigold, twice mentioned during his stakeout last night. Albeit the tax scandals and whispers of its ties to the black markets, the establishment was famed for its fabulous nightlife entertainment; its cabaret rivaling the well known Circus Royale.

The last thing he expected while scouting around the famous brothel was a pair of golden eyes most definitely belonging to someone he knew. Eyes that he see a minimum of forty hours a week, eight hours a day. How could he mistake it?

Sinclair’s eyes were always the first defining feature one would notice about her, and that was simply because they were one of a kind.

_Gold. Pensive._

Those startling pair of orbs were on the ice cream parlor across a dance studio. They were staring intently, burningly, as if their very essence were absorbed into every step the dancers inside were taking.

Lukas hid behind the shadows, observing them and the black haired woman they belonged to.

Now what was she doing here, with a disguise to boot?

He was aware that Officer Sinclair was interested in the activities of Tran Marigold as well, but her appearance here solidified his oldest theory about the vigilantes.

Was he correct in his assumption that she was one half of Lune?

Then what of White? Was he Lune, or was he the Hyacinth?

He’d need to keep on investigating.

Discreetly, he entered the brothel, making sure that she didn’t see him. For next Tuesday, he booked a girl, in the hopes of discovering more secrets.

Then he went to his Friday appointment.

* * *

Again, he found himself on the secretary’s apartment. Only this time, he was more cautious, more alert, more observant to detail.

The siren didn’t show any hints that led him to believe that she might have prematurely discovered the intentions of his visit. She was on her coffee maker, humming the Ardhalis national anthem in a happy tone.

Lila brewed a macchiato for Lukas and a breve for herself.

“Make yourself at home,” she chirped as she made the drinks.

And so he did.

The officer stood up and looked at the picture frames around the room. There were various photographs of Lila and the members of the 11th precinct’s patrol unit. On some, there were innocent images with her with some other women, no doubt her colleagues from her night job. In some frames, her family was displayed.

But self-portraits took majority of the display.

He picked up one, where Lila was shining the brightest. It was a candid photo of the secretary, in her usual prude blouse and floral bell skirt, happily riding a bicycle in the ribbon path by the river park.

Her expression was genuine, human, happy. Was this who she was underneath the lies and deceit? Behind the scheming and the treachery?

_She could have been beautiful._

“These are wonderful shots of you,” he said loud enough for her to hear in the kitchen.

“Oh, yes, a dear friend of mine loves taking my photos.”

He could hear the endearment in her voice. Of course, he though. These were taken by Dylan R. Whatever they had between them was something more than friends, but less than lovers.

But he was still a man who gave credit where credit was due. “Your friend is a very good photographer.”

Not a lie.

“Yes, very.”

Lila, playing the role of the ever hospitable host, brought the mugs to the living room and put them down on the centre table. “Come and sit with me,” she invited.

And so he did.

Coffee and tea flavours. Those were the things they were discussing. Later on, it shifted to how cute Ladell and Hawkes were as couple, and how everyone should help them get together. But she moved the topic.

“Lauren and Kieran really make a good couple, yes? I’ve seen you being friendly with him. You seem to be getting along amazingly.”

“I suppose so,” he replied, sitting back and indulging Lila’s question with a harmless reply.

“It might be more fun if get to know him better, so you can get to work closer with him.”

They continued discussing office gossip; Lauren and Kieran’s love life, the captain and the chief’s secret teenage love, the ghosts of dead officers lounging about the halls of the precinct during the dead of the night.

“What about Lune? Any theories your brilliant mind can share me?”

“Honestly, I don’t think they belong in our precinct.”

A safe answer. But a lie. If anything, he was almost sure that he was already able to crack that theory.

Lila put her empty mug down, inching closer to Lukas.

“Tell me what you think about the state of the country we are in?” Ah, yes, she was gauging if he was a suitable candidate for spying on the precinct.

“I think that the entire system is a joke. The judiciary system? A massive theatrics, where the rich can pay their way out and the poor were thrown to jail. The legislative? A conglomerate of sell outs and profiteers, only penning laws that will benefit their private dealings. And the executive branch of our monarchy? It’s the circus, and we, the police, are the clowns. Ten years and no progress at all. In summary, frustrating.”

Deep in Lukas’ heart, he knew that he spoke no lies, though he was not angry enough to turn to coup and terrorism. Whatever Lila thought of his sentiments, he really didn’t care. But if she decided to initiate him into the Scythe, he wouldn’t waste the opportunity to go deeper into this affair.

“Is that so?”she asked, her voice dropping to a silent whisper as she put her hand on his chest.

Leaning down, his lips gently dabbed Lila’s sweet mouth.

It was time to fraternize with the siren trying to drown him, and he’d make sure to overwhelm her and drag her back to dry land.

* * *

It was a rather productive night yesterday. After outdoing himself, dominating the bed and the sheets, and outperforming the professional, he succeeded it making her fall asleep.

He snuck around to poke at her belongings.

Whips, chains, ropes, and toys. All the things she possibly used for work. He was also able to read the document that the dirty Atty. Ridgeway handed over to the _Mistress Briar Rose._ The legal documents regarding the importation of goods from abroad, with a printed header of the esteemed Hawkes Enterprise.

Those were papers of share transfers. There was also a sealed envelope marked _Hawkes new CEO information_.

That morning, the officer eyed his commanding officer suspiciously.

Hawkes looked unusually spent and dried. More so than how he was usually tired. Was he the new CEO?

Today, the office was quiet. Pens were heavily scribbling, papers were getting aggressively flipped. Not only was it the Lieutenant who looked like life had been expelled from them, but also the Sergeant, and Sinclair as well.

Whatever she was doing, hanging around the brothel, it was sucking the soul out of her already fatigued body.

So in his goodwill, he went to the break room, and made a batch of coffee for the team.

Tray on hand, he passed by the archive room, seeing White engrossed in a paper he was reading. The officer placed down the tray and took his own mug, shoving it to the archivist’s hand.

Was he _La Lune_? Or was he the Purple Hyacinth? But one thing Lukas knew, he liked Kieran White as a fellow human being.

“Take it,” he said with his trademark gloom, shoving the mug the busy archivist’s hand. He can always make another batch of coffee for himself later.

Officer watched the archivist inhale the sweet aroma, instantly sitting up at the scent of strong caffeine.

“I’ll be sure to give Sinclair one too,” he mumbled as he stalked back to the patrol unit’s office.

* * *

And once again, he was surprised. From behind the loosely open door, he can hear the very familiar, yet different voice of Kieran White.

  
  
“Calamity comes for every one of us,” he heard the archivist say playfully.

“And assumes the shape that will be sure to hurt us the most,” a woman replied with a flirty laugh.

Lukas had reserved a prostitute for room 301, located at the first right from the elegant flight of stairs. Closely, he leaned in, listening to whatever the woman and the unusually confident archivist were talking about.

“It’s actually opium, from the mainland continent. Amazing, how good it makes the body feel,” the woman laughed.

Great. He got a talker of a whore to bed. Yet in hindsight, he can make her spill her secrets, with the right touches and the proper nudges. But why the archivist was in the vicinity, he did not know yet.

Was he here as the Hyacinth, as a customer to be served? Or was he here as _La Lune_ , investigating and looking for dirt?

A small idea crept in Officer Randall’s mind, but it would be preposterous, dubious, and honestly, quite hilarious.

There was no way the Hyacinth was part of _La Lune._ A single man can only be one, or the other, as the two entities were perpendicular lines that were meant to hinder one another whenever they clash.

After all, the Hyacinth destroyed all of _La Lune_ ’s hard work.

The moment White left for his own reserved room, 304, Lukas entered and locked the door.

Working his magic around this whore, he made her talk about secrets that were not meant to be spilled. Apparently, the phrase he heard White say was a password to reveal oneself as a Scythe member to another operative.

So the archivist really was a member of the Scythe? Now it begs the question of whether the man was the Hyacinth or no.

The harlot wanted him to drink the opium, but when she turned away, he cleverly hid it inside his clothes instead. He succeeded in making her drink a dose instead. He proceeded to touch her, to arouse her, to pleasure her. And finally, she gave up the first secret from her trove of confidential tales.

“You know, the _Mistress Briar_ is such a good person, since she directed me to this line of work. Now I can live the life I wanted. Be more than the poor fisher girl from the province.”

He responded with a gentle kiss on her neck.

“We have this training facility in the county of Arthingham, not far away from here.”

He pulled her hair back.

“Opium will be legalized once the doctors lobby it as a miracle drug.”

He made her scream to the deities that had forsaken them.

“There’s this man who visited me last Friday. White hair, missing a finger. Quite handsome. Too bad he kept calling me Lauren.”

He paused for a bit, before finishing outside her.

_This changed a lot of things._  
  
This meant that Kieran White was the Purple Hyacinth.

While the paid whore showered, he opened his door ajar to check room 304, but upon peering into the hallway, he was greeted with the perverted scene of Kieran White fucking one almost naked Lauren Sinclair outside.

_Again, this changes a lot of things._

Did Sinclair know? Afterall, she was the one who almost caught the notorious assassin months ago. What if she let him go, and they became _La Lune_ instead.

What was this game they were trying to play? Was it even possible that this man, Kieran White, was both the Hyacinth was also one half of _La Lune_? It did not make any logical sense.

Officer Lukas Randall discreetly closed the door to cleanse his eyes, bleed his ears, reaffirm his theories, and recheck his biases.

He’d have to keep watching.

Lukas slammed the door to the shower open. After all, he did pay for the whole night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read [Memoirs of a Courtesan ch. 01: The 4 Fingered Man](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24960736) if you want a more detailed description of Dylan and the Prostitute's interaction ♥.
> 
> Read [Memoirs of a Courtesan ch. 03: The Dark Brooding Man](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24960736) if you want a more detailed description of Lukas and the Prostitute's interaction ♥.
> 
> Cries in plot, cries for Lukas' future.  
> SUE ME. Yes, that's right. The plot is going to be lambasting even side characters.  
> For real though, so much plot drips here.
> 
> \---
> 
> Credits to [Livia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiviaKa/pseuds/LiviaKa) for helping me gather my thoughts about this chapter. Much love! And also to the rest of the members of the PH Smut Server. Phenomenal people.
> 
> \---
> 
> All characters of Purple Hyacinth belong to [Sophism](https://www.instagram.com/deadsophism/?hl=en) and [Ephemerys](https://www.instagram.com/ephemerys_ph/?hl=en).
> 
> [Read Purple Hyacinth on Webtoons](https://www.webtoons.com/en/mystery/purple-hyacinth/list?title_no=1621&page=1)
> 
> [Official Purple Hyacinth Discord](https://discord.gg/DfkfTxD)


	17. Negative News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By borrowing Lune’s anonymous persona, he would tear down this filthy and corrupted society, revealing each and every one of its thorns hidden beneath the mask of law and justice, so Ardhalis could rise up on its true identity.
> 
> The Ardhalis he loved the most.
> 
> La Lune was more than an entity. La Lune will become a symbol of the motherland’s veracity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OST Part 1 while reading: [UNSOLVED MURDER](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CeDzWbwyAKE) by [ FesliyanStudios](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCdEEFrPBkT5WLeRCl2qsEJQ).
> 
> OST Part 2 while reading: [MELDING](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DmLFnUcAwss) by [ Marika Takeuchi](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCMmZENxwf0KBy3D7XF6I-Bw).
> 
> _Loop the music ♥_

__

* * *

_♪♫[Part 1](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CeDzWbwyAKE) ♫♪_

_Well, wasn’t that an enlightening read._

After finishing the morning edition of _Le Journal_ , Officer Lukas Randall deposited his copy to his box of newspaper compilation, while the paper he sniped from a rude neighbour’s doormat was cut out as reference for his newly mint binder. Today, there was another headliner from this Dylan R. and his pretentious rose sigil. And this time, the suspicious photojournalist had written about the 11th precinct’s William Hawkes.

Now, ever since he was assigned under Hawkes, Lukas noticed that the Lieutenant had always been an extremely private person who had never allowed his personal background and hardships to interfere with his work. For years, he refused to indulge in the discussions of the scandals and questions surrounding his mother and the family company, the legacy left by his late father who was the Chief of Police, and instead, chose to remain steadfast with his daily responsibilities. It was one of his many admirable qualities that Lukas liked; this unparalleled professionalism while on police duty.

So it was within reasonable bounds that the commanding officer never discussed his career direction with his peers, however dubious the move might seem. That, or perhaps, in reality, Hawkes was a actually a member of the Phantom Scythe.

Pacing around his office, Lukas clicked his tongue and listed every fact and theory he had gathered as of this moment. Lila was a spy from the illegal prostitution ring. White and Sinclair were most probably _La Lune_ , but at the same time, the archivist was also the Hyacinth while the female officer was being targeted by the shady photojournalist. Hawkes was now the CEO to a company related to the Scythe, and Ladell was investigating all deaths by poisoning that occurred within the last decade.

_Who were the double crossers who would be crossed?_

He abruptly pulled up his curtains to let the blinding sunlight shine in.

Today, it was bright and warm, yet far off in the distance, was a whiff of dark clouds threatening to creep in and lay waste the country to decay and ruin.

Checking his clock, there was still an about hour before he needed to start walking down to the precinct, so impulsively, he pulled out his typewriter and started to make a draft of a letter.

Of all the spread out information he was able to acquire, he had the strongest case against the sirens of Ardhalis, trained in the county of Arthingham. He wrote how in this folder, the officers will find everything they needed to bring the illegal prostitution ring to its end. He continued to write, albeit his lack of evidence at hand, and finally, on the bottom right, signed the end as Lune.

Even if _La Lune_ was created by two people to commit their own brand of righteous vigilantism, there was no reason why he couldn’t borrow the idle mask incognito and wear it himself.

He reread what he typed. _Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous._

He walked to his stove and set the paper on fire.

His case against them was not strong enough. He should visit the county of Arthingham.

If he was really going to do this, he needed to see this through to the end. Right now, as he was, his information had blanks, his evidences were severely lacking, and his intel was stale. He shouldn’t do it the way _La Lune_ had previously done it, only targeting henchmen and replaceable hands so indispensable, that they were all massacred together. So he will climb down this dark hole of conspiracy to the very bottom and reel in everyone connected to this debauched operation.

By borrowing _La Lune_ ’s anonymous persona, he would tear down this filthy and corrupt society, revealing each and every one of its thorns hidden beneath the mask of law and justice, so Ardhalis could rise up on its true identity.

_The Ardhalis he loved the most._

_La Lune_ was more than an entity. _La Lune_ will become a symbol of the motherland’s veracity.

* * *

Lieutenant William Hawkes grimaced at the article. Each and every word written about him were all unsavoury lies, and he, the subject at hand, tried his best to swallow these filthy collection of words strung in an attempt to paint him as some sort extraordinarily outstanding human.

_He was not._

Sergeant Ladell, his trusty second in command, was now narrating the write up in the middle of the patrol unit’s office, in a poetic voice filled with awe and pride. But every damned time she read the phrase _in an exclusive interview_ , he internally fumed behind a façade of gratitude and smiles. Not even her melodic voice that usually cheered him up was doing anything to calm his irritation.

_The audacity to put words in his mouth._

There was never such an exclusive interview that happened between him and this D.R., whoever this mystery writer from _Le Journal_ was. Who was _he_ , to fabricate a tale regarding what the new Hawkes CEO really thought? William did not allow this; he gave no consent to this, but now, fallacious words he had supposedly said were circulating to the general mass. The nerve to portray him as a hero to propagate sentiments was the utmost display of irresponsible journalism.

He ought to march down the main office of _Le Journal_ and demand an audience with this misguided photojournalist. And if he was in the fouler mood, maybe he would throw in a fist and case of libel to boot as well.

> “Decide quickly, lieutenant, or maybe we should just kill the Sergeant Ladell if you won’t cooperate.”

No, he shouldn’t do anything to draw the venomous snake’s attention to himself. If he acted in any way that would end up hurting Kym Ladell, he’d never be able to forgive himself.

“And again, let us congratulate our dearest _Williame_ for this feat!” she said passionately, gathering a round of applause from the rest of their admiring co-workers.

A splash of water on his face should to clear the clouds from his head.

With an empty smile, he stood up and walked to the restroom. He was a now traitor to the country; he now was an operator for the Scythe. But before all that, he was still the proud Lieutenant William Hawkes of the 11th precinct, dedicated to the greater good of his beloved country.

The double crossers will be crossed to right all of the wrongs. His mind was already made up. There was no backing down from this deal sealed by hell’s fire. To bring down the Phantom Scythe, he’d sink lower to the depths of hell. And to protect Kym Ladell from the poison of the truth, he would do his best to play his part so well.

He swung by to the archive room to double check the format that _La Lune_ had once used. If they were planning to keep to the shadows, away from the discerning eyes of both the Scythe and the nation, then they probably would not bother if another damned soul borrowed their name for a little bit.

Afterall, someone had to continue their noble work.

* * *

“Sergeant Ladell, Lieutenant Hawkes, any news of Lune?” Captain Hermann asked as the two ranked officers who now stood before him in the closed office room.

Since his problems of entangling with the Scythe, William hasn’t been able to direct his attention to the secret mission assigned to him by the 11th precinct’s head. And truth be told, he didn’t think that finding the elusive vigilantes should be their top priority when they had slimes and snakes crawling and slithering around, poisoning the police force with venomous lies.

Ironically, the only reason he now know of this was because he had joined their ranks of turncoats. He gritted his teeth as he clenched his fist.

“No, sir. The Lieutenant Hawkes and I had been investigating our fellow officers, yet we cannot find a single clue that would lead any of them back to Lune,” Kym replied in his stead. There was something different in her voice, something sure and precise. They haven’t really talked about the identity of Lune yet, so why was she adamant that the vigilantes were not within their midst?

“That is correct, sir, we have no evidence against anyone yet,” he found himself backing his dearest sergeant’s words. Whatever Kym was planning, whatever Kym knew, he must remain in sync with whatever she was going to officially say. The last thing he needed was any other Scythe spy pinning Lune’s identity on her, and he wasn’t planning on letting her die at the hand of the Viper Assassin anytime soon.

“What about Sinclair?” the Captain prodded. “Are you sure she isn’t Lune?”

“No sir,” the sergeant replied strongly, her hazel eyes heavily determined. “There is nothing that points Officer Sinclair as the vigilante’s identity.”

Captain Hermann leered at sergeant, since he knew that the two of them were close friends. He turned his eyes to the Lieutenant, as if searching any form of discrepancy or lie. William stood his ground, unrelenting and unfolding. Whatever Kym had said, he shall treat as gospel truth.

“I heard from the head archivist that she has been spending an awful amount of time in the archives.”

That’s weird, why will the head archivist say that?

“That’s because the newest addition to their department is her boyfriend,” she supplied without missing a beat.

Even if everything stated by Kym were widely known facts in the precinct, William can’t help but wonder why he thought that she was too serious, too dedicated to this narrative about Lauren.

“White? The one recommended by Tristan Sinclair?” Hermann clarified in surprise, pondering a bit at the implication of what he just said. He tapped his fingers on the table, his gaze far yet focused. “I see. I was not informed of that variable when I was relayed this information. If that is the case, forgive my biases against Officer Sinclair. Then what about everyone else?”

Did he hear it right? Chief Sinclair recommended Kieran White to the position of archivist? But that did not make sense. From him and Kym’s accidental eavesdropping, they discovered that the couple already knew each other before Kieran’s appointment in the 11th precinct. Granted, he could have known the Chief even before, but Lauren particularly said it was the first time her uncle and her boyfriend met during a lunch meeting just a few weeks ago.

_Which was the lie, and which was the truth?_

“Wait, sir, are you sure that the Chief recommended him here?” the Sergeant asked in shock, her voice unable to hide her sudden doubt and disbelief. As if Kym shot straight but missed the target completely.

“Why ask your Captain for tell tales, Sergeant Ladell? I don’t entertain petty gossip about my officer’s love lives here in my office.”

Kym clammed up, and though subtle, William noticed the apparent look of recalculation in her face.

She knew something, and she wasn’t planning on telling him anything.

“Nothing more to report, sir.”

“Good. Keep me posted. Sergeant, you may go. Lieutenant, sit down, we have more to discuss.”

He nodded to Kym, who gave him a wry smile before exiting the room. After the door closed, Hermann looked straight into William’s blue eyes. His gaze was piercing, discerning, as if he can expose all of William’s lies. And had the Lieutenant been weak willed, he would have confessed his recent wrong doings right here and now.

“What is this about being the new CEO of Hawkes Enterprise?” the Captain asked sternly, his voice deep and commanding.

Captain Hughes Hermann of the 11th precinct was known all-around as a rigorous superior, holding the best track record when compared against his fellow precinct captains. He was a hardened and capable commanding officer, a well-respected man by his peers and juniors alike. There was a time he was a candidate to become the next Chief of Police, but he lost the position to the incumbent Tristan Sinclair. Yet he never lost his drive; and his defeat motivated him to be better, to be more extraordinary. His fixation to climb up further created the elite force of the 11th precinct.

Out of respect, he chose to answer the captain’s query with nothing but his absolute truth.

“Sir, I would like an advice on how to proceed with my current predicament. See, my mother named me her successor.”

His fist was balled under the table, away from the captain’s observant eyes, yet William kept his back straight and his face devoid of suspicious emotions.

“You are aware that this is a conflict of time and interest?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Yet you accepted this opportunity?”

“Yes, sir.”

The Captain’s intensity softened to admiration, before he sighed and pulled out an envelope from his files. “I was hoping that you would have talked to me before publicizing it in the newspaper, since I place a great deal of trust in you, Hawkes. And I hope that as your commanding officer, you reciprocated that sentiment to me as well.”

William felt like he was gutted. He knew how much the captain banked on him since his academy days, yet there he was, lying to his superior’s face. He was a double crosser double crossing double crossers.

_But some lies were necessary to reach greater heights and to achieve the greater good._

“But actually, I’ve known for a few days already. Chief Sinclair sent a letter of approval a few days ago.”

The surprise on the Lieutenant’s face was evident. How did the Chief know of this deal early on? Did his mother tell him?

> “A police officer, bah. The Sinclair girl is just as blind as you are.”

He drew a sharp inhale. _Impossible._ Was the highest officer of the country in coordination with the biggest threat of the nation?

_Why?_

Ever since he was a naïve young boy, he idolized Tristan Sinclair, the model police officer who rapidly climbed rank after rank during his younger years before being assigned chiefdom. He was the type of man he wanted to be instead of his own father. Whenever he and Lauren played cops and robbers in her mother’s gardens, he used to imagine himself as the great Deputy Chief Sinclair, the hero who took down all the organized crime families and those crooked drug cartels.

_Were those lies as well?_

“Chief Sinclair approved of my situation?” he asked quizzically, carefully, not letting his suspicions come to light.

“Yes, he sent this to me a few days ago.”

With steady hands, he received the envelope with the state’s seal, and read the document that was filed inside. It was dated three days after he signed his rights to the Hawkes Enterprise. Here, it was stipulated how he would go about his job at the precinct, how he can be excused in cases of emergencies.

There was still the chance that his mother just requested a favour from a long-time family friend, but that even made it all more suspicious.

A responsible man like Tristan Sinclair would never indulge such a ridiculous request, not without reasonable intention.

“I don’t understand. Why would he approve when I did not even apply for exemptions to the conflict of interest clause?”

“You didn’t?”

“No, sir.”

The Captain pursed his lips, his eyes intense.

“Lieutenant Hawkes, you remind me of Tristan when we were both much younger.”

The comment caught William off guard. The Captain usually talked about Chief Sinclair with heavy disdain, but for some reason, he detected a hint of fondness in Captain Hermann’s voice just now. Not to mention, going on first name basis without honorifics all of a sudden. The lieutenant was well aware that his commanding officer does favour him to an extent, but it never really occurred to him to inquire the reason behind it.

“When he was in his youth, he was just as dedicated as you. I believe he approved this because he thinks highly about your capabilities. Even if he and I now thread different paths, I wholeheartedly agree that you deserve each and every opportunity to grow that comes your way.”

William should be feeling some degree of pride and joy that the people he looked up to appreciated his dedication, his work, and his values, unlike his own mother who never even gave him a fraction of her attention.

_Deep in his heart, he knew there was something askew in this entire situation._

“Thank you, sir,” he replied in false genuinity. He looked up to thank the Captain, yet he saw a calculating glint on the man’s eyes.

A thought crossed his now cautious mind. What if one or both of them were Scythe members like him? What would be the point of bringing down this syndicate when even the highest of the executive powers of this nation was smeared with the stench and poison of corruption?

“You do know that Tristan also has the same exemption, since he took over the Sinclair Inc. ten years ago.”

Yes, he has heard about that.

“So I believe that you can do it to. But never forget your responsibilities to the people of our great country. Never let yourself be led astray by blind morality,” the Captain reminded, his dark eyes strong and true.

Amen to those words, to that oath Lieutenant William Hawkes will continue to adhere to.

* * *

♪♫ [Part 2](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DmLFnUcAwss) ♫♪

Earlier, Officer Lauren Sinclair was ranting to her partner, confidante, and lover, Kieran White on the roof deck, complaining to him about the unprecedented turn of events. Since reading the newspaper this morning, she had been disappointed that William never said anything about this even to his closest friends.

“Damn him and his emotional walls!” she grumbled, as if she personally didn’t have the problem of being dishonest with her own feelings.

Coupled with the fact that they did not discover this information during their numerous and tedious infiltrations over the last week, there was some level of frustration for the inadequacy of their sleepless operations.

“I cannot believe we missed any evidence. Here I thought that since we didn’t find paper trail, he did not join the Scythe,” she whispered frantically to him as they stood side by side, gazing at the people below as they leaned on the balustrade.

Everyone was going on about their lives, to their honest living, through their mundane lives. The blissful ignorance of the mass was something worthy of his envy, he thought, as he burned the busy imagery through his mind.

He would draw this city later, from above, in its uncorrupted form, as seen through his guilty eyes, with his blood stained hand.

_Black and white._

Lauren turned her back, away from the city, and closed her eyes and looked up to feel the gentle sunlight caress her face. A gust of wind blazed around them, masking their words from potential eavesdroppers. To anyone else, they were just like a normal everyday couple, with normal discussions, leading normal lives.

“It’s like you’re forgetting that you’re dating the biggest plague of the country, officer,” Kieran responded with an amused tone, tossing his head back to look at his beloved through his bespectacled turquoise eyes. The breeze softly kissed his face, tracing stray strands of his hair, his tied locks gently tossing in the wind. “If you want to ask him directly, you are welcome to do so. Are you not the closest of friends?”

Lauren rolled her eyes to the sky, her face deadpan as she crossed her arms.

“Maybe I should just go line up all the citizens of Ardhalis and ask them if they are Scythe members and sympathizers!” she whipped her hand in the air sarcastically.

Kieran chuckled at the very idea. _If it were only that easy._ “Yes, please do so, and ask your uncle too while you’re at it.”

This comment earned him a sharp, yet well-deserved jab at the stomach. Laughing, he pulled her close, wrapping an arm over her shoulder. “I thought we were done with physical assaults?”

“Shush, subordinate,” she waved a hand dismissively. “Have you read the article? It’s like he wanted it.”

The archivist snorted loudly with pure disgust, running his fingernails through his scalp. Dylan, the crazy brat, wrote the article that she was talking about. It was easy to spot his works, as he used roses as his signature, the way Kieran used Purple Hyacinths to mark his kills.

He gritted his teeth as he thought of the former’s punchable face. “Doubt it. The photojournalist who wrote it is a propagandist working for the Scythe. I’ll bet you my life that he didn’t even meet with the Lieutenant while writing said article, so don’t believe that rubbish ramble of misquotes.”

A sigh escaped from the officer’s lips as she leaned her head on Kieran’s arm. Quietly, they watched the clouds go by, slowly, but steadily.

It was selfish for him to ask for more, as he recalled all the good things he had since Lauren came to his life, but he would trade anything if he could wake up next to her each morning, if they can take peaceful walks each afternoon, and sleep soundly beside each other every evening. Just the two of them, and nothing more. No worries, no problems, just the bliss of being together forever.

“Oh, so you know the writer?”

The understatement of the century. Dylan was his best friend, his confidante, and more. He used to think that they would be there for each other, supporting each other, brother in arms until the end. Kieran would have introduced him to the love of his life, and after this Scythe affair ended, he would have asked Dylan to have been his best man down the aisle.

But something broke in him, between them, and Hanbury Street was painted in blood.

“Yes,” he simply responded, pushing away his thoughts. So many things have gone wrong through the years.

Yet for some time now, since that fateful day at the bridge, things have been in the right. _At least for him_. And hopefully, for her.

“How come there are so many members of the Phantom Scythe within in our society?”

He was grateful that his _beaut_ didn’t pursue the matter of Dylan Rosenthal’s identity, because in all honesty, he wasn’t ready to know what the connection between them was. He was contented with what was between him and Lauren now, and he wouldn’t be able to bear it if they had another falling out.

“Well, _mon amour_ , it’s a fairly easy question to answer, but being born rich and privileged, perhaps you need time to fully understand the depth of the problem.”

“I’m starting to wonder if their reasoning is valid, even if their means are not.”

Kieran smiled, relieved his beloved was finally acknowledge the bigger picture. “Ah, wonderful. You’re becoming more open minded. I, for one, am proud of you.”

They allowed a moment of peaceful silent to pass between them. Lauren’s hair, her crimson crown, danced in the wind. Meekly, she tucked them behind her ear, her golden eyes softly gazing at him, her lips smiling gratefully at him.

He touched his racing heart instinctively at the portrait of her standing so close beside him. He had never seen such a pretty eyes before, he had never seen such a beautiful smile before.

“Thank you for opening my eyes a bit.”

“And it is my pleasure to have been of great service to you,” he responded, permanently etching those bright eyes full of hope and happiness into his troubled heart.

“I have a summon tomorrow morning before sunrise,” Kieran breathed quietly. He hated it, being summoned by the Messenger like the whipped dog he was, subject to the whims of his unrelenting overlords.

_He was going to be given another name to kill._

The officer pursed her lips and closed her eyes in response. Her shoulders tensed around his arm. He knew how much she hated this, the killing, the slaughtering, the Purple Hyacinth in him.

“ _Mon amour_ , you know I have to go,” he said seriously, imploringly. “It would be suspicious if I avoided this meeting with the Messenger.”

She exhaled loudly, before responding, “Do you have any idea who it will be this time?”

_Josephine Sterling-Hawkes._

“I have an inkling, but until I verify, I won’t tell you. Rest assured though, darling, that as promised, I will reveal their names to you.”

He imagined this new victim’s eyes, scared, in shock, begging for another day to say goodbye to the things she loved. A new set of eyes to lock deep in his heart, to watch him from beyond.

Lauren drew a deep sigh, wrapping her arms around Kieran’s waist to bury her face on his chest. “It’s not like I can stop the great Hyacinth from his true responsibilities,” she whispered.

He chuckled lowly, his had twirling the loose strands of her hair from her beautiful face. “Don’t worry, I’ll give the Messenger a good decking since the Scythe owes me one.”

“Oh? Is that legal within your organization?”

Kieran glanced back at her, his eyes soothing like the wind. “Not really. But double crossers should expect to be double crossed. It’s just a small inconvenience. Just another normal day as Purple Hyacinth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cool newspaper edit. :V Wasted additional word count on this.
> 
> To clarify a few things about this fic:  
> 1) I have changed the ratings and the tags. This fanfiction will start heading towards a darker route. If you have noticed twisted characters and character developments, they were all intended for the benefit of the story, and will be handled with realism and care. This fic will be dark, brutal, and morally grey from here on out. You are now warned.  
> 2) Apologies for forgetting to update and add appropriate tags for the previous chapter. Should have put a trigger warning, but yes, whatever you read, that was the intended effect.  
> 3) I already hinted down the identities of all the existing apostles for this fic. Have fun trying to find them.  
> 4) EXPOSITIONS EVERYWHERE.  
> 5) Just one more chapter, and the investigation arc will close. So every important information about the Phantom Scythe had been already dropped, waiting to be discerned. 🙏
> 
> Credits to [Livia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiviaKa/pseuds/LiviaKa) for being the wonderful proofreader. And as always, her help with brainstorming as to how we will do this story justice! Much love and appreciation, sis! ❤️💕💞💖♥️
> 
> \---
> 
> All characters of Purple Hyacinth belong to [Sophism](https://www.instagram.com/deadsophism/?hl=en) and [Ephemerys](https://www.instagram.com/ephemerys_ph/?hl=en).
> 
> [Read Purple Hyacinth on Webtoons](https://www.webtoons.com/en/mystery/purple-hyacinth/list?title_no=1621&page=1)
> 
> [Official Purple Hyacinth Discord](https://discord.gg/DfkfTxD)


	18. Mystic Messenger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hope you won’t bear grudges, my good sir,” he continued sarcastically, all with a cruel smile. He turned around dramatically and gestured to the glittering sky. “Treat this as an occupational hazard for working with the most infamous assassin of your beloved organization. Treat this as an honour to have lived a life after receiving a stab from the angel of death.” The devil of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OST while reading: [REACHING HORIZON](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lY1iYx26cEo) by [Mark Petrie](http://www.markpetrie.com/) and [Andrew Prahlow](https://soundcloud.com/andrewprahlow).
> 
> _Loop the music ♥_

Even after a few hours after midnight, the street children of Greychapel remained outside. They littered the broken cobblestones by the curb of the filthy streets, lying in the cold, clustered together in collective homelessness and misery. The Purple Hyacinth’s footsteps were softer as he walked past them, careful not to arouse the sleeping children from their fleeting dreams and nightmares.

Ardhalis was an impressive country, boasting a rich economy and a colourful culture. Yet behind the fringes of its bright identity, it was riddled with a peace so fragile and frail. Before even the scourge called the Phantom Scythe began terrorizing the core of this once great nation, there had already been whispers and hints of dissatisfaction towards the monarchy.

_There simply was a glaring gap between those born rich and those damned to be poor. Ardhalis was not the land of the free. Ardhalis was the land of corrupt liars and plunderers._

As the Hyacinth made his way through the weaving mazes that went deeper into the heart of the poorest part of the city, he wondered what his next move should be. Why was he even doing all this, if not for the threat of the death of loved ones, yet there they were, double crossing their own words.

_Who was it who trained him and turned him into the backstabbing monster that he now was?_

After carefully checking if he was being followed, he entered the forsaken cathedral, not to pay reverence to the cruel gods from above, not to be a dog of the overlords that push him, but to drag the damned Messenger from _its_ confession booth and slam _it_ hard down the cold rubble ground.

_Like plucking a bird from the sky._

“Greetings comrade,” the Hyacinth grinned, his turquoise eyes glinting maliciously behind the shadows that heavily obscured his face. Slowly, he prowled around his target. Above him, past the broken rafters of the decaying roof, the stars twinkled and the moon shined bright, basking the fearsome assassin in ethereal blue light. Indeed, it was as if he was the grim reaper, the devil of the night. He loomed over the masked man and stomped on _its_ chest, heavy enough for his boot to leave an imprint of a mark.

“Purple Hyacinth, I was told that you would be in a foul mood,” the gruff voice greeted through _its_ white beak. There was no fear in _its_ voice, no trace of dread and terror. The Hyacinth found this rather refreshing, as usually, when faced with his sword, people cowered; begging for mercy as if he was a god who granted fresh new beginnings instead of quick and painless deaths.

_It irritated him._

“Do indulge me, _Monsieur_ Messenger, why my parents are here in Ardhalis City?” he questioned, sinking his boot harder, crushing _its_ shoulder, making sure to inflict pain to this audacious bold man.

The masked Messenger visibly winced and folded, as _it_ struggled under the weight of the Hyacinth’s anger. Grunting, _its_ gloved hand grasped the boot of the merciless grim reaper in a vain attempt to free _itself_.

The Hyacinth watched in satisfaction as the worm beneath his foot wriggled and twitched. How easy was it to kill _it_ now, feeble and helpless.

“I hope you won’t murder me tonight, else, you would get into trouble,” the Messenger warned, gasping in muffled breaths as the pain was beginning to take its toll. Perhaps the stupid plague mask was making it hard for _it_ to breathe, so should the Hyacinth show mercy and swipe it away from _its_ miserable face?

“Of course I won’t, my good man, but there’s no reason why I can’t inflict pain and damage to you. After all, I _really_ enjoy this part.”

He said those words with such mirthful malice, that all the authority the Messenger had seemingly withered and wilted. _It_ raised _its_ hands up to concede defeat, and after one final grinding, the Hyacinth mercifully lifted his foot.

After fixing _its_ mask and straightening _its_ clothes, the Messenger cordially faced him, refusing to back down and be shaken under the assassin’s intimidating gaze. “The Leader had instructed that you do not attempt contact with your family. Or else, they die.”

The assassin could roll his head to the night sky. What had he expected? Double crossers do be double crossing, yet from him, absolute loyalty was more than expected. Dawning on his face was a smile, a well-practiced _façade_ that took a few years to perfect. “This was not the agreement which I was promised with. The Scythe and I, we had an deal.”

“And the Scythe is under no obligation to honour its end of whatever bargain that it had struck with an assassin.”

Maintaining his cool demeanour, he chuckled. The Messenger sure was testing his increasingly thinning patience. He was aware that _it_ disliked him, scorned him, looked down on him from whatever high place _it_ sat on even if he was all which represented the Scythe’s iron grip hold on this country.

“That is not how mutual beneficiaries work.”

Perhaps _it_ has a death wish, so should the Hyacinth show mercy and just kill _it_?

“You are no beneficiary. You are but a whipped dog, shackled and chained to the vision of the Phantom Scythe, slave to the whims of our great Leader.”

_And to that, the Hyacinth exercised his divine mercy._

A piercing cry echoed through the empty shell of the deteriorating cathedral. With a swift flick and powerful jab, the Hyacinth stabbed the shoulder of the Messenger. _It_ hissed angrily, _as_ the assassin slowly pushed the blade, further, and he revelled on the excruciatingly satisfying whimpers escaping from the pained man.

How dare he be called a whipped dog of the syndicate, however true it was. His sword dug deep down the Messenger’s flesh, and mercilessly, he skewered through the wound, twisting the handle with delicate care.

His unamused expression faded as menacing grin crept to his lips. He paused to observe his handiwork. For so long, he had tried to never hurt anyone in an act of annoyance and vengeance.

But plucking a bird from the sky, dragging _it_ down to remind it that _it_ ’s not as high and mighty as _it_ thought _it_ was?

_This felt good._

The Purple Hyacinth had a strong moral code that he never failed to abide by. To never kill unless ordered to, to never strike unless it was the only solution, to never raise arms for his own personal gain, for his own satisfaction. And for so long, he had thought that this was what he needed to do to remain steadfast, to be kept in check, to never lose sight of who he really was.

_Marquess Kieran White, scion of House White._

Yet ever since allowing his feelings to water his withered heart, ever since allowing the sun to shine through his shadowed soul, he had been invigorated, he had become alive, as if he was, once again, reborn into the light. He can be in love, he can be happy, and still, she will always be there. He was human.

_He can be selfish and vengeful, and she will always remain with him, in there._

Blood began to pool at their feet, and the Messenger gasped in shock, grabbing _its_ punctured arm in a vain attempt to wriggle free. Pity that the Hyacinth cannot see the terror on _its_ face, because for so long had he imagined unmasking _it_ at decking _its_ pathetic face.

But now was not the time. He will play the merciful grim reaper tonight as he continued the act of being the whipped dog of the treacherous syndicate.

“Pay your respects to me, good Messenger, or have you forgotten that I am the plague of the country, the devil of the night, the one, the only, the Purple Hyacinth of the Phantom Scythe.”

He pulled his blade and stepped back to avoid the filthy blood that might splatter his clothes. The Messenger winced, holding back from showing any emotion, but physical pain was not something one could easily hide. _It_ knelt down, pressing where the sword impaled _it_ to put pressure on the fresh wound.

The Hyacinth chuckled, whipping his blade, before sheathing it back inside its scabbard. He scrutinized the pitiful form before him, a wave of temporary high hitting him.

“Hope you won’t bear grudges, my good sir,” he continued sarcastically, all with a cruel smile. He turned around dramatically and gestured to the glittering sky. “Treat this as an occupational hazard for working with the most infamous assassin of your beloved organization. Treat this as an honour to have lived a life after receiving a stab from the angel of death.” Or _the devil of the night_.

It’s about time that the damned Messenger revered him and his bloody reputation, after all, where would they be, if not for his hard work and dedication?

A moment of tense silence passed between them, before the masked man released his shoulder and dug _its_ able hand through _its_ coat to pull out an envelope.

“Here is the information for your next kill,” _it_ grunted, throwing the blood stained case to the foot of the assassin.

“Thank you,” he said in mocking condescension, bowing theatrically as he eyes lit with complacence.

As expected, Josephine Sterling-Hawkes. To be eliminated for no longer being relevant, for no longer being important. He had a week to kill her off.

He had a week to plan out how to become the merciful grim reaper and attempt salvation for this poor damned soul. That, or a week to ready Lieutenant William Hawkes for the grief that would befall his miserable fortune.

_It was what La Lune would make it to be_.

The Hyacinth understood that the Messenger had no answer as to why his family was here. Although, really, the answer was obvious to him. It was to bring the Hyacinth, their greatest weapon and threat, to further to submission, to absolute resignation, to force him down on his knees as an act of retribution.

The Purple Hyacinth might kneel down and bow to his masters, but in his place _La Lune_ shall take the necessary steps to free him from this wretched hell hole.

He shoved the mission inside his coat, and turned around to leave the wounded man.

“I’m not done,” _it_ croaked angrily in a fit of pained frustration. “We still have more to discuss, you cur.”

The venom and spite was audible in _its_ tone, yet really, _it_ was nothing, but just a simple harmless bird.

Stopping in his tracks, the assassin turned. His turquoise eyes shined brightly, rebelliously, threateningly. “Be a gentleman and don’t use disgusting words. Not to me. For I stand far above a mere carrier of words.”

_It_ visibly shrank under the intense pressure of his gaze.

“I’ll see you in due time when I report the success of this mission. And if I would be in a good mood, then we can resume this conversation.”

His eyes wandered to the lone chandelier, the sight of his first kill flashing right before his eyes.

“Do deliver a message to the Leader from me,” he smirked as he started walking towards the exit. “After all, that is your job, is it not?”

He leered, waiting patiently for a reply, before finally _it_ answered, albeit in a boorish manner.

“Spit it out. What do you want to be relayed?” _it_ barked, baring _its_ non-existent fangs.

_All talk and no bite._

He didn’t respond as he swung the heavy wood open, stepped out, and closed the cathedral doors right behind him. It echoed with a resounding bang, leaving the baffled bloody man inside, alone, left hanging onto the assassin’s last words to _it_.

A reminder. A warning. A word of caution and more.

_A love letter._

It was a threat that he wanted to be delivered from him to the venerable Leader of the fearsome Phantom Scythe.

_A quick stab to the front, slowly and painfully, inflicted deeper with utmost care, from his best assassin, the infamous Purple Hyacinth._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES, I played Mystic Messenger. Good game, good title. 707 is love. Saeran is the messenger, surprise! SIKE.
> 
> Pff, For real though, of course the messenger is a canon character. :V  
> It is also an it cuz Kiki thinks its a tool.  
> Love how Kieran turned out in this chapter.
> 
> And thus, we close the investigation arc. Comments are more than welcome.
> 
> Credits to [Livia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiviaKa/pseuds/LiviaKa). Amazing as always, Impasse becoming more amazing with every brainstorming session we have. WE ARE CRYING.
> 
> \---
> 
> All characters of Purple Hyacinth belong to [Sophism](https://www.instagram.com/deadsophism/?hl=en) and [Ephemerys](https://www.instagram.com/ephemerys_ph/?hl=en).
> 
> [Read Purple Hyacinth on Webtoons](https://www.webtoons.com/en/mystery/purple-hyacinth/list?title_no=1621&page=1)
> 
> [Official Purple Hyacinth Discord](https://discord.gg/DfkfTxD)


	19. Observant Officer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How can everyone move on from death so fast, as if a life disappearing after the flick of a snap was commonplace? Yes, life was fleeting. Yes, everyone was bound to die at some point, but not the people who you love, not the heroes you believed in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OST while reading: [DRIVEN](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PcknD43PaBs) by [Marika Takeuchi](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCpQUBJrRfcpWLro4Oziff7Q).
> 
> _Loop the music ♥_

> 
>     "In the middle of the Sea of Sylvarant, three thousand kilometres from the mainland continent of Tethe'alla, was the archipelago of our great nation of Ardhalis. For a couple of centuries now, we have been headed by the strong line of the Aevasther House, reining the country during what we now call the Period of Peace. Decades of bloodshed were put to an end when the Treaty of Sybak was signed by the first Aevasther Monarch and the leaders of our neighbouring kingdoms.
>     
>     Yet this peace that we, the citizens of this great nation, hold on to so dearly is being threatened because of one weak link breaking the chain of a mighty dynasty. Since his rise to the throne after the tragic Allendale Train Tragedy, King Philip of House Aevasther had done nothing to curb the plague that has been haunting us as a society. Ten years, and not a single step took by this administration had any successful effects to hamper down the rapid growth of the terrorist syndicate called the Phantom Scythe.
>     
>     Who are they? Where are they? The answers to these questions have long eluded us, but are these even the correct answers to ask?
>     
>     What does the Phantom Scythe stand for, and why do they have so many followers and sympathizers?
>     
>     What can the people who join them want and see?
>     
>     How come the state and the police are ineffective-"
>     

Sergeant Kym Ladell threw the morning paper to a bin she passed by, frustrated by the article. Patrol duty for today was uneventful and peaceful, yet there were was a sombre air that filled the damp streets of the city. People talked in hushed whispers as they discussed politics and society, silently agreeing on the article posted on the opinions section of _Le Journal_ that day _._

Before the Phantom Scythe, mere murmurs of discontentment with the crown were punishable by death. After the death of the king, satire and opinionated opinions became the realm of fools and blasphemers. But after Viscount Redcliff lobbied the Freedom of Press Act, published articles like this have been popping up more often, swaying public opinion as easy as how the wind scattered ashes. Kym checked the name of the writer. D.L., with the sigil of a rose. Whoever he was, he was a very bold man, accusing the government of inaction and incompetence, when public servants like herself were bending their backs to hold together the fragile peace that was slowly falling apart, bit by bit.

> “More than half of the police force is now loyal to the Scythe.”

Of course society was fragile, when the mask that should be worn to unite the police as the symbol of peace was instead being used as a _façade_ to trick the gullible masses into this false sense of security. There was once a time when even the Sergeant admired the uniformed officers and what they stood for: Truth and Justice.

_Veritas Iustitia._

That was the motto on which the Ardhalis Police Department was founded upon.

_The motto that her sister had died defending_. _In vain._

While continuing to walk back to the station with her unit, she was stopped on her tracks when she felt someone tugging her coat’s sleeve.

“My father is missing, can you help me?”

The Sergeant paused, an accommodating smile appearing on her face as she turned around to find herself being stopped by a teenage girl of about fifteen. Beside the girl, grasping her hand tightly was a boy of about nine.

“Are you siblings?” Kym said kindly, kneeling down to level with the children. She looked back to her unit to tell _Williame_ that she’d handle this, but Lukas was already one step before her, grabbing the Lieutenant to inform him of this development.

Whenever he wasn’t brooding, Lukas Randall was probably the most reliable officer in the precinct.

She returned her attention to the children. They may be kids, but their eyes sparked in hardened wisdom that come early and commonly during these troubled times.

Where was the innocence that children should be having? Gone, like ashes being blown away by the wind.

Kym listened intently as the girl said that her father hasn’t returned from work for a few weeks now, but her mother refused to call the police.

“She said that he was just overseas for business, but I had a nightmare about him last night,” the girl began crying, tearing up.

Ah yes, the culmination of her police training; comforting children who were having bad dreams. Just one notch below helping a crazy lady look for her butler that was missing for ten minutes.

Still, Kym wore her helpful smile. She was the friendly neighbourhood police, a hero for those who still believed in the waning illusion of peace. As ridiculous a plot this may be, helping innocent children, keeping the streets safe, responding to petty offences and grievances; these were the things that she will keep on doing, whatever happened.

_Be the hero that this city deserves and needs._

That was the motto that she swore to live by.

“Where does your father work?”

“In the national bank. He’s a manager.”

Kym pinched the little girl’s cheek. Then he was probably at work, overseas.

“Nora, Tony! There you are,” a woman in a large hat approached. “Officer, thank you for watching over my children,” she said apologetically. “Don’t bother the officer with your dreams,” she gritted her teeth, whispering to the older teen. “They mean nothing.”

_No, every dream meant something._

“Wait ma’am,” Kym reached out. “I’d be happy to investigate the whereabouts of your husband.”

The woman laughed nervously, wiping her brow. “No need, officer.”

“At least let me do this. What is your name, ma’am, so I can at least keep an eye on it.”

It didn’t escape her attention how the woman discreetly looked around, as if dropping her name was a capital offence punishable by law. “Bridget Flemmings.”

> “Speaking of which, I had someone buy out the information about Flemming’s whereabouts.”

> “Oh? And what did you sell them?”

> “That Flemmings died via the golden viper venom.”

“But please, officer, don’t even try to bother. He’s always on business trips,” she continued, tensely grasping the children by their shoulders. The little kids tried to retort, saying that they want their father back, but their mother was hurriedly trying to usher them away.

Kym should let this go. Clearly, the woman did not want her to pry. But her gut told her otherwise. Besides, if there was even the slightest chance that her husband was the same Flemmings that got murdered by the target that had long eluded her…

“We’ll take your statements,” a low voice said beside the sergeant, startling her out of her wits. Instinctively, she threw a punch, which was easily dodged.

“Do that again, Sergeant, and I will not hesitate to break your arm.”

It was as if massive cloud suddenly blocked the bright sun shining from the sky. Officer Lukas Randall’s dark form towered above them all. The children noticeably hid behind the skirt of their mother, who protectively put a hand on them.

A single sweat bead appeared on the woman’s face, and she waved a hand over her flustered, yet flushing face. “No officer, you don’t really need to bother, as it’s not as if-”

“We insist,” he leered, crossing his arms and frowning. The woman pursed her lips, confusion clouding her eyes as she cupped her own cheeks, considering.

Intimidation was not an approach that Kym approved of, but Lukas sure was effective. He had a good face, but coupled with his commanding aura? He can keep play the bad yet hot Grumpy Cat cop, while she can continue playing the heroic good cop.

Kym smiled brightly, gathering Mrs. Flemmings’ hands to her own. “Don’t worry ma’am, we’ll find out what really happened to her husband,” she said warmly, full of hope and promise. And although this does not guarantee that they will find Mr. Flemmings alive, they can at least give his family the peace of mind that they very much deserve.

“Alright,” she finally gave in, and both Kym and Lukas brought out their notepads to write the testaments from the family of the missing man.

_Mr. Ryan Flemmings, aged forty-two. Occupation, accounting manager at the National Bank of Ardhalis. Last seen, February 17. Last known location, attended Viscount Redcliff’s ball, failed to come back home._

“Anything you want to add? He’s not affiliated with shady business, right?”

A short pause, and Mrs. Flemmings wearily looked at her own children.

“No,” the woman replied strongly. “He just tries to provide a good life for us, that’s all.” Yet her eyes spoke otherwise.

On situations like this, Lauren’s ability would have come out hand. But what can she do, as she was only one Kym Ladell. “We will do what we can to look for leads regarding this case.”

She pulled a top hat from thin air and beckoned Officer Randall to follow her. “Follow me, Watson.”

“Don’t treat me like how you treat Hawkes.”

“Jeez, you’re no fun. I’m still your commanding officer, you know.”

She pulled out her radio to inform Lieutenant Hawkes. And now, to the bank they go.

* * *

The Ardhalis National Bank was located in the 12th district, where all the main government offices were located. It was a massive white building of pure renaissance glory. Two gigantic ionic columns framed the entrance porch, standing tall to support the fancy entablature that sat on the building’s apex. The floor was made of shiny marble, each footstep of each busy person echoing loudly against the great halls. Classy chandeliers hung from the embossed ceiling, reminding every visitor of the power money held in their great country of Ardhalis.

And standing right in the middle was one hyper sergeant, followed by one grumpy cat.

Kym whistled as she twirled around. “I’ve never felt so poor in my life,” she commented, watching all the people in business suits walk by. From a distance, they watched as a certain Mrs. Karen Smith, who Kym recognised as the manager of the Golden Clover, was throwing a tantrum in front of a teller, about not being able to cash in a cheque, demanding to see the an accounting manager.

How people like her reek of privilege, when there were so many starving children in the streets of Ardhalis.

“Don’t you feel poor when you’re with Sinclair and Hawkes?” Lukas replied with a frown, sipping from a cup of coffee they bought on the way to the bank. He threw a disgusted look at the direction of the shouting, as he obviously judged the pathetically hysterical woman flailing and screaming.

“They don’t flaunt their wealth. Not unlike that woman” Kym said, shuddering at the thought of either of her friends flaunting their money pretentiously. They never did, and were the types to never will. There was a reason they were both police officers.

She strutted to the front desk as the dark shadow of Lukas Randall trailed behind her.

“Hi, may I speak to Mr. Ryan Flemmings?”

The lady manning the station looked up and smiled. “Mr. Flemmings is away on a business trip.”

“Oh, then can I speak to his manager?” she replied, channelling her inner Karen. She tilted her body, flashing her sergeant’s badge as she grinned at the lady. Usually, people try to accommodate the police, so this will be a piece of cake.

“You’d need a warrant for that.”

“We are not searching anything, we are just here to ask question.”

“We’d still want a warrant.”

Kym screwed her face, obviously annoyed. What were these people hiding?

She was about to ask again, mouth agape, when on the corner of her eyes, she saw him: the man who claimed that Mr. Flemmings died of the golden viper venom. The familiar snow haired man that was talking with Tim Sake outside of the Grim Goblin. She could follow him, drag him to the precinct and question him. He might be the key to her questions.

But no, she was not that kind of cop. But that didn’t mean that she can’t ask for his name.

She turned to her heels to call the clue to her search, but Lukas immediately grabbed her by the arm, pulling her back. “Don’t, Ladell,” he warned, turning them around and dragging the sergeant to the exit instead.

“Hey! Unhand your commanding officer, you dank feline!”

“I don’t know what you know, but believe me when I say that there are some things that you do not ask in broad daylight.”

She whipped her head to the officer. She knew that Lukas had been doing his own little readings during his spare time, but that just begged the question. He was in no way Lune, and by the way he was reacting, he was by no means a member of the Phantom Scythe, so what exactly was he doing with information like this?

“What do you know?” she hissed quietly. “You made me miss my opportunity to ask about-“

“Your sister’s killer?” he replied in a deadpan voice, releasing the sergeant’s arm the moment they were outside. Silently, he sipped the remainder of his coffee, before throwing the cup to the rubbish bin. He shrugged as he looked over his shoulder. “I’ve been keeping tabs on that man, and he’s far more dangerous than he looks like.”

“How do you know that?”

“I like watching people.”

She crossed her arms, pouting. “Okay then, let me rephrase my question, Mr. Smarty Cat. How did you come to that conclusion?”

“Sergeant, please don’t refer to me as that. Or I swear to the gods, I will kill you,” he growled.

Kym gulped. Lukas was really intimidating, but she still had one trump card against the brooding man.

“As your commanding officer-”

“Don’t even try it.”

She threw her hand in the air to concede defeat. Damn Lukas Randall and his overwhelming sense of superiority. “But can I trust you?” she asked, her hazel eyes serious and solemn.

The wind blew around them quietly as they locked eyes, in a standstill that would define the deeper relationship that they would allow between them.

Lukas slowly nodded, his dark eyes honest and strong. “I believe you can. And I will trust you as well, Sergeant. So little of us left.”

_Allies. Another hero hidden in a horde of villains._

Ah, so he knew of the many spies within the precinct as well. “Yes. So few of us left.”

They start walking back to the precinct in a calm beat.

“Do you know how I became an officer in the first place?” she asked quietly, staring at the clouds. She never opened up about this, not even to _Williame_ and Lauren. Funny, how the most unapproachable soul in the 11th precinct was the first man to ever hear her origin story.

* * *

_November 14, xx20_

STEFFAN HAWKES MURDERED ON GREYCHAPEL CATHEDRAL! A PURPLE HYACINTH LEFT ON SITE

_Kym crumpled the newspaper on her hand. This has to be the person who killed her sister. Three years ago, the truth was never discovered. Three years into the future and justice was still not served._

_It was time to take matters into her own hands._

_She pulled the golden pocket watch from her pocket._

_01:24:48_

_She gritted her teeth. She’d find her sister’s killer, no matter what._

_Stretching her legs, she jumped down from the stack of tires she was sitting on. Today, she was in her favourite black leather jacket, worn carelessly over a tank top and low waist trousers. To complete her look was her signature dog collar, dark eyeliner, and a perpetual frown that never went away since the day she came home from her sister’s funeral._

_A typical problem child, robbed of innocence and purity by this unjust world dominated by liars._

_Tonight, she won’t just egg the precinct walls and smash watermelons by its entrance porch. Tonight, she was going to steal documents that will lead her to the killer on the newspaper. To this Purple Hyacinth, whoever it was._

_Fuck the police. They were all useless. Were all officers dumb and stupid? Or was her sister simply not that important to them? That must be it. Every year that passed, fewer and fewer of those so called friends visited the grave. Of course she knew about it, she’d sneak out of her room and stay up late at night in the cemetery, talking, crying. There was no justice for the good and righteous in this world._

_There was only death._

_She walked through the dark alleys, kicking the trash that littered the filthy ground. Chewing on her watermelon flavoured gum, she slumped down on the floor to close her eyes._

_She didn’t intend to be like this, a problem child that was a pain on her parent’s back. She so wanted to be a good daughter, to be supportive of them through these trying times. And she tried so hard, yet, in the end, she couldn’t. It was as if a bitter well was springing from inside her, filling her heart with dark feelings and her mind with poisonous thoughts. There was no one who can help her. There was no one who will listen to her._

_She was all alone in this cruel world. No one understood her, no one cared about her._

_And no one ever will._

_Just a waste of space that will never amount to anything._

_How can everyone move on from death so fast, as if a life disappearing after the flick of a snap was commonplace? Yes, life was fleeting. Yes, everyone was bound to die at some point, but not the people who you love, not the heroes you believed in._

_They were supposed to be invincible and immortal._

_Their loss should tear holes in reality._

_Their disappearance should make the world grieve._

_Yet, nothing. Not even a whisper of misery was felt in this world. Not even a trace of tears was left flowing after years. Forgotten, like ashes blown by the wind. To all but for her, time continued to flow. But she was in a stasis, she was stuck; she cannot move on as she was shackled to the past. Time was nothing but a social construct, and it will only continue to flow for her once the murderer’s time was halted._

_Dead. Heart not beating, body unmoving. Vengeance served when the system couldn’t._

_If they were going to disregard her and take her for granted like a side character that didn’t matter, then she’d weave a tale where she was the main character, the heroine destined to deliver justice to everyone who was deprived of it. If there were no heroes who would help her, then they cannot stop her from being her own champion of her story._

_She picked up a stray pebble by the roadside._

_With her eagle eyes and strong arms, she threw it and broke the captain’s window on the third floor._

_Strike! She scampered back to the alley as the window flew open in angry rage._

_She always hated that grouchy looking man, the person who demanded her sister to come to the bomb site all those years ago._

_Had he not…. Well, it was too late for wishful thinking. What was done is done. Time cannot turn back. Time can only stop._

_Late that night, she snuck into the precinct, dedicated to gather any information that would lead her to finding this Purple Hyacinth murderer. They’d have to be the same person, right? Greychapel Cathedral was close to Crime Alley, so that was a good connection…_

_“Intruder alert!”_

_Fuck, she ran, but her tiny fourteen year old legs did not take her far. She was shackled in handcuffs, and brought in for questioning._

_“Didn’t know they had criminals this young,” a young detective scoffed, maybe just about five years older than her._

_Kym spat her bubble gum out, sliding lower down the chair of the interrogation room. Were they going to beat a confession out of her? Make her declare allegiance to the Phantom Scythe even if there was none? She heard of those stories, from the back alleys and the dark corners of the city. That the police kill, that the police murder. To these baseless rumours, she scoffed and rolled her eyes. Yet at the back of her mind, they stayed, like a recurring nightmare that haunted her dreams. But that’s not possible. They may be ignorant pricks that were inefficient and ineffective, but they were in no way villains like the Phantom Scythe was._

_There was still a little part of her that believed in them, behind the disappointments and the frustrations. But that young detective on the corner sure was testing her very thin patience. She frowned at him, and her eyes flew to the cuff around his wrist, partially exposing a tattoo._

_What a thug._

_“Don’t scare the girl, Detective Cooper. After all, weren’t we all wild back in the day?” the lead detective said, chuckling, reminiscing, sitting down across from her._

_A single bright light bulb shined blindingly between them, illuminating their faces while keeping the rest of the room dark._

_“Hi, I’m Detective Oliver March. What’s your name?” he said, a kind smile radiating from his scarred face._

_Somehow, she wanted to answer, to not leave his kindness unanswered. “Kym…” she whispered._

_“Just throw her in jail for a day, then she’ll talk more.”_

_“Cooper, you’re a young detective, but we have rules here,” March sighed. “You have lots more to learn, but I’ll guide you.” The mature detective looked back at Kym. “Alright Kym, do you have a last name?”_

_“Ladell,” she replied meekly, ashamed for her mother and father that tried so hard to raise her._

_“Oh.”_

_What an utter disappointment. Her sister was slated for a lieutenant position, and there she was, about to be thrown to jail._

_“We’ll come back.”_

_Cooper and March left the room. And Kym was left to her thoughts._

_She pulled the string to turn off the light bulb. She wanted to be left alone, in the dark. After all, that’s how she had been living for three years now._

_She had failed to gather information about the murderer. Useless, utter trash; that was what she thought she was. If she could only die and join her sister. If only she had enough guts to-_

_“Ms. Ladell,” the door opened, and blinding her from the sudden sunlight from outside._

_Her eyes adjusted, and it was him, the grouchy captain of the 11_ _th_ _precinct._

_Kym hung her head low, clenching her fist below the table._

_“I’m not sending you to jail. But I will send you somewhere else. For a time.”_

_Great._

_For six months, Kym had spent her days on the juvenile prison in the neighbouring county of Daath. It was the first type of prison of its own, for delinquent children._

_She shared her cell with peers as old as her, taken in for petty crime like stealing food and trespassing. And honestly, everyone in the juvie enjoyed being inside rather than being out on the streets, hungry and homeless._

_Unlike her, they were all thankful to be brought here instead of a real prison, with Scythe members and hardened criminals._

_Preposterous. A prison was a prison, no matter what it looked._

_Every week, her parents came to visit her. But she’d refuse to speak to them. Her mother’s crying, her father’s sighs, there was no way to take them in, not without breaking down. She was nothing, just a child stuck in prison, stuck in the past, stuck in time, with no way to move forward._

_Eventually they stopped trying to see her. “If you don’t want our help, then you can live your life like that,” her father said with a heavy heart, before finally leaving with her grieving mother one last time._

_Again, she was alone in this cruel world. No one understood her, no one cared about her._

_Then he came, every goddamn week._

_“Ms. Ladell, I heard from your parents that you refused to see them.”_

_Captain Hughes Hermann of the 11_ _th_ _precinct. The man who sent her sister to her doom, the man who dumped her sorry ass in prison._

_What was he doing here, feigning care when even her own flesh and blood had given up any hope for her._

_But every damn week, he came with that grouchy face of his, bearing gifts of watermelon._

_And slowly, she started to open up._

_“Stop bribing me with my favourite fruit,” Kym grumbled, munching down a slice._

_Hermann just crossed his arms._

_“Why do you do what you do, Ms. Ladell?”_

_Finally, after months of prodding, she responded, quietly, tearfully._

_“My sister…”_

_And she told him everything. How she hated the police. How no one had answers. How she felt ignored, alone, unwanted, and unneeded._

_And he listened, like no one else had._

_“You probably think this is dumb,” she sniffed as she continued to gorge on the last of the watermelons._

_“No. On the contrary, I believe this will be a good origin story for you.”_

_“What are you talking about, grouch?”_

_“Enter the police academy.”_

_“What, no! I can’t do it. I’m not good enough.”_

_“Did I stutter? If I say you are good enough, then you are.”_

_“How can you say that when I’ve been nothing but a problem child?! What do you see in me?”_

_“A potential. I believe in you.”_

_And just like that, the blinding sunlight enveloped her in warm light._

_Her hand flew to her pocket watch._

_01:24:48_

_But around her, time started flowing again. Slowly, but finally. She was able to break free._

_Tears fell from her face, and she sobbed like the day she experienced her first loss. Words that she longed to hear, to be told to. She mattered, she was not alone. She was not invisible, she was not useless._

_She had the potential to be more than this mess that she had become._

_“Turn your loss into strength. Be the hero that this city deserves and needs.”_

_After her release from the penitentiary, she stopped throwing tantrums and stopped going on rebellious streaks. With a letter of recommendation from Hughes Hermann, she took the entrance exam to the police academy, passing with flying colours._

_For the first time in a while, her parents hugged her. For the first time in a while, it felt like things were going to get better._

_Standing in the middle of the cemetery, in front of the tombstone, she stood tall and proud. Puddles formed at the soles of her shoes as she dug her heels to the ground, refusing to let tears fall from her eyes. Holding a black umbrella beside her was the man who made it possible, the man who believed in her when no one else did._

_“How sure are you that I won’t spiral back to being a miserable kid?”_

_“You actually remind me a lot of Detective March when he was younger.”_

_“Ah, him? He doesn’t seem like it.”_

_“People grow and mature.”_

_“You sure are banking on me a lot.”_

_“The youth is the future.”_

_“That’s wise of you, grouch. I see why my sister looked up to you a lot.”_

_“Sergeant Ladell was an admirable officer, Ms. Ladell. And I am sure you would be one too.”_

_But there were some things that she can never forget._

_Her sister’s killer was still out there, free. But all in good time._

_She was going to be a police. She was going to be truth. She was going to be justice. She was going to be the hero that this city deserved and needed._

* * *

“And that is my origin story,” Kym finished theatrically, removing her top hat and bowing in front of Lukas.

Tumbleweed seemed to roll around them as the officer just grunted as a reply, continuing to walk to the entrance porch of the 11th precinct.

Her mouth gaped at the Grumpy Cat’s expected lack of reaction. “At least give me a round of applause or something!”

“Too long, didn’t listen,” he mumbled, before stopping in his tracks.

The Sergeant bumped her head on his back, and was ready to protest when a voice sneered at them.

“Well if it isn’t the juvenile and the Grumpy Cat.”

If only she can make a gagging sound. Miles Cooper of the detective unit. Major asshole to everyone on the patrol unit. Never mind that he was mean to her seven years ago, but he was especially mean to Lauren even before she was demoted from her initial position. Everyone on her squad hated the guy, always harassing them with paperwork weeks before due date.

“Where were you two, skipping work?” he said gruffly.

“For your information, Cooper, we were doing our job, unlike some people in the detective unit who still can’t figure out who the Leader is,” she scoffed, levelling with the detective.

“And you were what, saving old women’s purses?”

“No, responding to a report about one missing Ryan Flemmings.”

“What?”

The temperament on Cooper’s voice changed, his eyebrows furrowing as he shook his head, sneering and waving a hand at them.“I was going to say that all investigations are to be handled by the investigation unit, but I forgot that you were Sinclair’s best friend. Patrol officers really are the-”

Kym could have taken the berating, the insults, the low expectations thrust upon her. She was used to Cooper’s underhanded comments, thrown at her by him since joining the precinct as an unranked officer.

But then she forgot that Lukas Randall was here, and he hated being insulted.

With one fluid motion, he broke Cooper’s arm.

“Fuck!” the detective shouted. “You-” but he stopped mid-sentence, as they all noticed blood seeping out to his clothes.

Was that supposed to happen? Lukas just broke his arm; he didn’t stab his shoulder.

“Ladell! Randall! What in blazes?!” _Williame_ shouted, sprinting towards them from the afternoon patrol round.

Officer Randall just shrugged nonchalantly. “That blood is not my doing.”

“Oh my, I am so sorry, Detective Cooper, we will write an incident report-”

Cooper hissed at the trio. “Don’t you dare make an incident report,” he growled, storming inside the precinct.

Yikes. Someone woke up in the wrong side of the bed.

The rest of the afternoon patrol came pouring in, and Kym enthusiastically told them all the story of how finally, someone showed the intolerable man who was the boss.

She flicked her pocket watch open before entering the precinct. She looked at Lauren and Will, and behind them, Lukas. One more person who was seeking justice, one more step closer to the truth.

Indeed, it was a good day. Time was moving again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Emo Kym by Curispy
> 
> \---
> 
> Yes, that's a Tales of Symphonia reference. Yes, I quoted Ramses.
> 
> \---
> 
> No, Hermann isn't dumb. Stop thinking that. There's a reason why he's captain and why Lauren tries so hard to earn back her detectiver position legitimately. Give the man the credit he deserves.
> 
> To those who don't remember, Detective Cooper is a canon character. He was Lauren's senior detective who she was paired with for the Chow Murder investigation (the one where she slammed Tim to the glass)
> 
> On the other hand, why are my chapters getting longer?!
> 
> Slow burn people. VERY slow burn and mystery and drama.
> 
> \---
> 
> All characters of Purple Hyacinth belong to [Sophism](https://www.instagram.com/deadsophism/?hl=en) and [Ephemerys](https://www.instagram.com/ephemerys_ph/?hl=en).
> 
> [Read Purple Hyacinth on Webtoons](https://www.webtoons.com/en/mystery/purple-hyacinth/list?title_no=1621&page=1)
> 
> [Official Purple Hyacinth Discord](https://discord.gg/DfkfTxD)


	20. Playful Precinct

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because he just realized something.
> 
> Lauren Sinclair was the love of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OST Part 1 while reading: [MISTER MISTER INSTRUMENTAL](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P0MRpG-04EE) by [ Balduin Music](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC-R0_YrKI4E0sbXKQhm0Pfw).
> 
> OST Part 2 while reading: [PAST AND PRESENT](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nj1cXTj1je4) by [ Sophism](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCfAaaSEJvCIGq9cfWvHqwIw).
> 
> _Loop the music ♥_

♪♫ [Part 1](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P0MRpG-04EE) ♫♪

Stacks and stacks of paper were laid across the dusty shelves of the dimly lit archive room. The newest addition to the precinct, archivist Kieran White, coughed ardently as he lifted some ancient case files from some forgotten corner. Everything from before a decade ago were unsystematically shoved away, stored in damp corners to collect fungus and mold, in order to give space to the torrent of papers and folders that was ushered in with the introduction of the Phantom Scythe.

His hands were impossibly dusty and disgusting, and sweat was running down in large beads across his face. Why did the archive room need to be damp, humid, and dirty? Even his cave was cleaner than this horrid excuse of a precinct office.

No wonder they can never find the Leader, when the sorry archivists can’t even find a simple case file from over thirty seven years ago? Why the hell did Captain Hermann need the files for the murder of one Lady Sandv?

“Wow, Mr. White, how come you still look hot and dignified even if you are all dirty and sweaty?” a voice called from the other side of the shelf. Popping in his head was Mr. Martin, the blonde archivist, youngest of the four of them working in the archive department.

Kieran chuckled at the remark. He was well aware that he had superb genes, after all, ladies did swoon for him. Although of course, in his heart, there only remain a space for one.

“It’s all about grace and poise, Mr. Martin. Keep your back straight, carry yourself with dignity, and you would remain sharp even if you do the shadiest things.”

_Like assassination, spying, and double crossing._

The younger archivist mused, emerging from the back shelves. Elliot Martin was a nineteen year old man fresh out of the university. As the youngest of the archive department, he had the reputation of being a hopeless romantic. _Baby Eli_ , the rest of their peers call him, although Kieran remained classy by insisting on calling him with the formal title of mister.

So naturally, Elliot practically worshiped him, putting the new hire atop a pedestal of unparalleled respect.

___

“How did you manage to woo such a catch, Mr. White, please share us your tips!” the younger archivist once begged him during their lunch at the sparsely populated precinct cafeteria a few days ago.

“Nah _Baby Eli_ , I doubt Mr. White is a virgin,” Mr. Payne had declared loudly in response, much to the former’s internal embarrassment. “See his sexual tension with Officer Sinclair? Steamy, it makes me hard. Ask him for sex tips instead! I daresay, his dick must be enormous.”

Vulgar mouth as always, this man. And although it was somewhat flattering that someone thought that he and his dearly beloved were, as described, steamy, he did not really appreciate the fact that someone else was imagining her in severely indecent ways.

He had turned to face the brunette, a sly grin appearing on his lips.

“Now, I would not deny nor confirm the size and length of my unequivocally superior manhood, Mr. Payne,” he had begun to say, forking the nine inch hungarian sausage on his plate to wave it suggestively in front of the latter. “But as with everything, quality over quantity. Not like you would know anything about it, since your mouth is bigger than what is inside your pants,” he had quipped, glancing over the other man’s crotch as his turquoise eyes twinkled behind his false spectacles.

Elliot’s mouth had hung open, mouthing the word _burned_ over and over again.

___

Barry Payne was the brown haired archivist with the filthy mind. At the age of twenty eight, he was the hopeless flirt who could not land even a single date because of his bad pickup lines and unapologetic machismo.

A voice from the backroom interjected. “Oi, my man Kieran, what shady things do you do? Don’t tell me you masturbate in public!” Barry cried, rummaging his own stack of boxes “Damn it, why does the Captain want some soddy old case time from around the time he was born?”

“More work, less talk,” Mr. Bennet said, rolling his eyes as a small smile formed on his lips. “Again, Barry, if you can deliver work as much as that disgusting mouth of yours can spew, then maybe you would have been married a long time ago.”

“You’re one to talk, Clark, you pathetic creep! If you can shut up for one hot minute and stop being a smartass, then maybe your fiancé would not have left you.”

Kieran winced at the harshness of the remark. He could never imagine the pain of breaking up with someone he was ready to marry.

Clark Bennet was a decent bespectacled black haired man just a year older than the precinct’s newest addition. He was calm and rational, with his only drawback being an intolerable know it all when it came to odd topics.

___

“So you’re nine inches?” Scott had remarked, sizing the sausage that Kieran was blatantly waving at Barry’s face.

“Now, Mr. Bennet, why are you so interested at my length?” the archivist had replied mischievously, taking a delicate bite off the tip of his sausage. “Surely you have more interesting questions other than how deep I impale during sex.”

Clark had put his middle finger on the middle of his square framed glasses, pushing it up his nose bridge as if he thought he was a cool comic character. His glasses shined as he said with a triumphant smile, “Since Elliot is a 6.5, Barry is a 7, and I am a 7.5, I hereby declare myself as the next one to get laid.”

Everyone else just shook their head, their lips pursed into tight grimaces.

“Gods Clark! Did you just declare our sizes to the entire precinct?”

“A fact is a fact, however vulgar it is.”

“The ladies on the other table are laughing at us. AT US! I’m panicking!”

“Calm down _Baby Eli_ , or maybe pass away so a lady can give you cpr.”

“I’ve never seen such a shameless man as Mr. Bennet here. As if he has no more dignity to lose.”

“I’ve lost a fiancé, I got nothing more to lose.”

“You really are a fucking creep, aren’t you?”

___

Kieran sighed at the memory, a little smirk falling on his lips. He continued to work and banter as he thought about his life as a salary man so far. It had been a few good months since he joined the ranks of these shoddy characters from the archive department. At first, he approached it like how he approached all his Scythe missions, with precise calculation and detached emotions. Yet somehow, between juggling spying, pretending to look for Lune, and being _La Lune_ , he found himself in a comfortable space between all that inside their dank, musty office with this quirky clique of raunchy bachelors. His cold and polite unsmiling façade melted to reveal the sassy, suave person he truly was underneath all this.

_Was this how normal people made friends?_

With no stakes, no competition, no danger, but comical discussions, unending complaints about the daily toils of an eight hour work day, and surprisingly, which sexual position was their favourite.

He licked his lower lip as a foxy smile instinctively took over him.

“I’m not particular to any positions as long as I get to be the dominant one,” he replied haughtily, rancid images of their infiltration in Tran Marigold flashing before his eyes.

“So noisy,” a new voice came from the office door.

The four bantering archivists turned their heads to see Officer Randall, one hand on his pocket, another on a coffee mug perpetually glued to his palms.

“Officer Randall,” Kieran respectfully greeted, raising a hand up. “How was your day?”

“Phenomenal,” the officer replied, deadpanned. “I broke Cooper’s arm after going to the bank. Some Mrs. Flemmings was missing her husband.”

Ah, but of course, it was only a matter of time until someone noticed. But poor Ryan Flemmings was not missing, and there was little hope to recovering his body, wherever the Scythe had dumped it to rot.

“Oh, And did you discover anything, officer?”

On top of these debauched men who so blatantly discussed fantasies of sex as if their entire office was the men’s locker room, he also found an unlikely friend in Officer Randall. Some days, they would grab coffee together, and they would talk about politics.

“A fact.”

Kieran was aware of what the officer was trying to unearth, and he couldn’t help but wonder how far Officer Randall had already unearthed. After all, there was only so much one can discover in the documents haphazardly stowed away in the dark shelves of the dingy archive room.

“Anything else?”

“For me, confirmed theories. For you, a word of caution.”

Politics wasn’t the only thing they discussed over warm coffee. Conspiracies, theories, intellectual discussion shrouding definitive information withheld behind a chess play of words. A very enlightened and bright fellow he was, that Kieran had to wonder why he never took the initiative to take the sergeant’s exam.

They locked eyes for a moment in understanding. Although he did not know what exactly Lukas Randall knew, the archivist knew that he was a formidable ally to have in these trying times.

“Then caution I shall take,” he replied gleefully, pulling another set of dusty envelopes to check their contents. He frowned as some of the papers literally dissolved upon the touch of his hands.

“I see you all still haven’t found the strange case of the death of Lady Sandv.”

“No, it’s been tedious. My companions have been reduced to bickering what they would do in their first intercourse, it’s rather disturbing.”

The officer turned to the door, shrugging. Before exiting, he looked back to the rest of archivists, no doubt intimidated by the aura of the infamous Grumpy Cat.

“You are all disgusting,” he began, sneering at the degenerate lot covered in dust and soot. A cruel smile full of judgement and belligerence formed on his shadowed face, mocking them all with two hurtful words before turning away to sip his warm coffee. “Disgustingly virgin.”

Their mouths fell. After a few seconds of pause, they all looked at each other, confirming the insult, before the three archivists all roared in angry protests, simultaneously jumping together up to run after the officer.

He shook his head, laughing. These men were the best diversion to the fact that he had just been given another mission to kill as the Purple Hyacinth.

* * *

“No, they still can’t find it,” Lukas said as he returned to the desk.

“Well, as if they would,” Kym said dismissively, stretching her arms to the sky. “That folder is probably as old as our grouch of a captain himself! I wouldn’t be surprised if the termites had already eaten up the file.”

“Don’t disrespect the Captain, Sergeant,” William warned, writing. “Bad enough that you implored Lukas to bleed Cooper’s arm!”

“ _Williame_! You offend me? Do I look like a cat lady to you?! I assure you, I am not that Grumpy Cat’s master. That,” she cried, pointing at the brooding officer, “Is a stray!”

Lukas looked at her testily, before grumbling back to return to his own paperwork. “I just broke some idiot’s arm, not bleed it. The Sergeant probably gnawed it when no one was looking.”

“Aghast,” she exclaimed, “I would rather waste a watermelon slice than bite some Miles Cooper flavoured meat!”

“Watermelons are now banned in the precinct, don’t even try it.”

Lauren giggled as she listened to her co-workers in a light discussion that she so sorely missed. The prime highlight of course, was Detective Cooper getting done in by Lukas Randall’s famous arm break in krav maga. It was no secret to the precinct that each and every one of the officers of the patrol unit had a bone to pick with the rudest detective in the office. Lauren’s bone in particular was how Cooper continued to berate her after her demotion. Granted, she had humiliated him as her supposed partner in the Chow murder case that kicked her out of the investigation unit, but he was no Hermann who handled it with honest tact and dignity.

His unfortunate _accident_ was a good distraction to the damp mood the office had been in lately.

The past two weeks were impossibly tense, not just for her, but for within the entire patrol unit as well. There was no denying that the core of their unit was the four of them, so when they had this weird vibe for the last few days, there was a distinctive lack of mirth and laughter that rang within the sordid halls of the precinct.

Kieran had informed her that her friends had been pulling out particular cases from the archives to read during their spare times. Now, she’d rather have them keep to their lanes and remain ignorant of the foreboding truth that they might unearth, but she was not the only one with a life destroyed by the Scythe.

She remembered that Kieran supposedly had a meeting with the messenger yesterday. They need to find time to discuss it, whatever the orders were. It would be best to follow through those orders, as not doing so would blow his cover as a double agent against the syndicate.

“Weird that Hermann wants to open that case for a third time. We have enough unsolved cases as it is. Anyway, so if they can’t find the files, what are the archivists doing there right now?” she asked Lukas as she leaned to the back of her chair. She lifted her mug to her lips, warming them with the savoury taste of caffeine.

“Lounging. Complaining. Trashing the room. And your boyfriend is giving out sex tips to the virgins of the archive department.”

Lauren choked on her coffee.

Kym rushed over to her best friend, rubbing her back albeit prodding Lukas to continue spilling tea. “I was expecting him to say something like against the wall, legs wrapped around his waist,” he stated, as if trying to recall a memory. “But I guess any position where he was the dominant one would suffice.”

She had no idea how Lukas managed to say that all with a straight face, and in the middle of office hours to boot.

Fortunately, the ferocious blush shading her cheeks went unnoticed as the other women of the patrol unit squealed. “Oh my gods, he’s a dom, that’s so hot!”

Hey! That was her boyfriend they were discussing!

“Excuse me, hands off what is mine,” Lauren declared pointedly, raising an accusing finger at her peers.

“Oh, we are over him Lauren. The _Kieran White Cult_ was disbanded and renamed into the _LauKi Shipping Cult_. We are actually imagining how you and him would be so hot in bed,” Officer Anderson giggled.

Olivia Anderson was considered as the precinct’s local top gossip. Any news about anyone she deemed hot, as long as it fuelled her interest, she knew. What was William Hawkes’ favourite book? What was Lukas Randall’s favourite food? Who was Harvey Wood’s ex-girlfriend? She was the woman who knew all these answers.

___

“Nine inches?” Officer Anderson had whipped her head as she heard creepy Clark declare that Kieran White had a dick that long. From the table a few feet away from them, she had been craning her neck, listening in to any sweet crumbs that the men might unintentionally drop. It had been turning out to be a really interesting conversation about Kieran White’s alleged lack of virginity and that had really piqued her curiosity. Clark had continued to talk, surprising her with new bombs dropped. Six and a half, seven, and seven and a half were decent enough for her. She didn’t realize that the archivists were packing.

From under the table, she had kicked Officer O’Sullivan, busily writing some erotica.

“Oi, stop kicking my leg, I’m trying to think.”

“Wow, here I was, trying to deliver news about some spice, and you blow me off,” she had hissed.

“Go to horny jail, woman. I bet you’re the type to die in an earthquake because you are too busy fantasizing. Death by arousal will be on your tombstone, and on your obituary, I shall write the greatest self-insert smut for you.”

“I- Okay, you speak no lies. But how are you any better, writing smut in broad daylight during work hours?”

___

The fiction connoisseur of the 11th precinct, Margi O’Sullivan. She was a reliable officer who wrote the most concise reports in record time; her fatal flaw being too fast that she had the time to spare to write erotica at work.

She once accidentally sent in a page of smut that somehow bypassed every gate of the corporate ladder straight to Captain Hermann. Needless to say, he was not impressed.

___

“What is this piece of degenerate filth, Officer O’Sullivan? _Royal Adviser x Chief x Captain x Detective_?” Hermann had quacked, crumpling the unholy devilry printed on a police department issued paper in a desperate attempt to erase from his mind whatever eloquent perversions he had just read.

“I take inspiration from those around me,” she had replied with pride. “As long as I finish my work early, I should be able to be allowed to do whatever I want in my spare time.”

“This is illegal.”

“Did it make you hard though?”

“… Get out of my office.”

___

She had continued writing with no particular characters coming to mind today. “Who has nine inches, you say?”

“Kieran White.”

The two of them had begun gossiping, giggling as they talked about debauchery that was technically not allowed in the precinct. “So I told William that I knew that pink haired gal he was conversing with the other day when I saw him downtown. She was Harvey’s girlfriend. And he said, ‘Ah, so she’s been in the precinct before. That’s why she looked familiar.’ The poor girl, probably heartbroken by our cinnamon bun’s death.”

“I mean his body is in the cemetery if she wants to dig it up.”

“Oh, I also think that Lila and Lukas might be dating!”

___

“You lot are really irritating,” Lukas grumbled, throwing a shaded glance at Officer Anderson and Officer O’Sullivan.

“You weren’t there, Randall. And if you were, you would be a convert by now. From grumpy cat to the shiba doge,” Olivia sneered. “You have no ounce of romance in your bone.”

“I wouldn’t be converted even if I see them having sex in front of my eyes.”

Lauren raised an eyebrow as everyone started to bicker about her own sex life as if it was celebrity level scandal that they all just read on a vulgar tabloid. And although it was flattering that their Lune tactic of being overly romantic was working to convince her co-workers of their very normal relationship, it did feel like her privacy was being pried on.

“Ah, yes, of course. Continue to discuss about me as if I was not here.”

Kym theatrically shook her head, poking her best friend’s abs. “You know, we all saw how you were batting your lashes at him in the cafeteria that day! _Williame_ had to avert his eyes because you were oozing sexual energy enough to make me wet!”

“Kym Ladell! Language!”

“What am I, Captain America?! But admit it, _Williame._ ”

“Well, truth be told, yes.”

“ **I was not flirting with him publicly-** ”

“Can you not you hear your own lies?!”

“Actually, you looked like you were telepathically making out with him.”

“Correction, telepathically fucking him while you practically forgot we were sitting in front of you!”

___

The moment Lauren had seen her lovely subordinate nibbling the tip of his sausage, she felt an electric charge flow through her, making her entire body feel hot and bothered with heightened lust. Her hand flew to undo the first couple of buttons of her dress shirt, before slowly and sensually loosening her tie, just enough for her well defined collar bone to peak. Her tongue had dabbed her lips wet as she watched him provocatively dangle his meat around shamelessly in front of his peers. And when she had finally caught his turquoise eyes in the heat of her golden ones, he flashed her a teasing grin, biting his lower lip as we winked at her direction.

“Um, Lauren, are you okay?” Kym had cringed, throwing an awkward side glance at William.

“Oh gods, make her stop it,” the Lieutenant had shivered, averting his eyes away from his childhood friend who was looking past them, as if they were not even there, and straight into the eyes of her boyfriend tables away.

The officer had pushed her palm to her cleavage as she lifted her glass to play with the straw with her tongue. And the archivist had replied by leisurely dragging a finger on the bits of mayonnaise left on his plate, before seductively licking, biting, and sucking it in an agonizingly slow performance, just for his dearly beloved to enjoy.

Legend had said that half the men and women of the 11th precinct had a heart attack that day.

* * *

“ **That was not what happened Wednesday last week and you know it** ,” Lauren denied hotly, a heavy blush creeping to her cheeks as they all grimaced in disagreement. Admittedly, she and Kieran were probably still sexually charged by their debauched infiltration in Tran Marigold, but did they really exude sexual energy that high?

All they wanted was to bee seen as a couple so no one would doubt their interactions.

The rest of the patrol unit just shook their head as she tried call their bluff.

“Knock knock, hope we are not disturbing anything.”

The archivists were at the door, dusty boxes on their arms as they marched in to dump the package into the middle of the room. “We finally found them, the case files for the death of one lady from the noble House of Sandv,” Barry heaved, dropping boxes of evidences on Lila’s desk, attempting to flash his muscles at her.

Elliot collapsed at the tiled floor, savouring the cool ceramic tiles that the archivists did not have at the musky archive room. Clarke started to strip, talking about heat strokes and thermodynamic laws as if anyone of them cared. The three of them were all perspiring and dusty, ragged and sweaty.

And then came in Kieran White, sleeves rolled up, shirt crumpled in all the wrong places, a little bit of soot in some places, but even under all that, still managed to look easy on the eyes. On his arms a thick stack of folders that helped him flex his arms to define his muscles against his sleeves. “Delivery for the uniformed officers of the 11th precinct,” he said jovially as he gently laid it down the lieutenant’s desk.

“Well aren’t you dirty, subordinate.”

_Subordinate._ How easy it slipped out from her mouth.

While the other officers started to pick up the files of the case of Lady Sandv, Kieran went to lean on the window sill, beside Lauren. “Good for you patrol officers for having big windows and natural ventilation,” he quietly chuckled as they watched people pick up some folders to read.

Captain Hermann was still out, so everyone was wondering why he wanted to reopen a case that began thirty seven years ago. But to Lauren and Kieran, it didn’t matter. They had more important things to discuss. Things of the present. Things concerning the now.

The officer handed a rag to the archivist, who proceeded to wipe the dust from his palms.

“I feel like I may need a shower after this. **I have never felt this filthy my entire life**.”

_A lie._ Even if he wiped his hands a thousand times and more, the blood on him was permanent and eternal. Like the trenches of the earth, like the craters on the moon.

A gentle laugh of sorrowful melody spilled from her lips, filling his heart with tranquil peace. She moved to stand in front of him and dusted his clothes, buttoning him back up with delicate hands, her fingers brushing him lightly as she straightened his clothes out.

_♪♫[Part 2](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nj1cXTj1je4) ♫♪_

“You don’t need to be clean. You are who you are. And I will always be here.”

He quietly looked at her features, feeling every touch and every graze that came from her in heightened awareness; his heart overwhelming with warmth.

_Devotion, adoration, passion_.

All those days he was tasked to follow some random man, he didn’t know why, but listening in to how she would always reject them was always a breath of fresh air that filled life into his gloomy days. The sound of her voice filled his ears with nonsensical normalcy. Her golden eyes had always eluded him as he watched from afar, from behind her back. He almost forgot about them, like a shadow of the past threatening to fade away with the passing of time. And like a slap of reality, he stopped when he saw them again, finally.

And suddenly, he was already aware of the reason why he chose to trust her in the first place. She, whose golden pensive eyes he had long embedded in his heart, reminding him of hope, of what ifs, of all the good in this world.

Humanity.

It was not an easy journey for the two of them, the gods knew that. He was probably going to be the biggest hurt that had come to her life, after whatever trauma she was carrying deep within her scarred heart. From now on, he will become her biggest secret, her biggest burden, her biggest liability in an unforgiving world that will not hesitate to drag her to the ground. Even after all the trouble he brought to her life, even after all the hurt he gave her, there she was, still here. And the gods knew how much she meant to him, to be his lifeline, his future, his hopes of what ifs.

Even though moving forward would be even harder from now on, it would be bearable.

Because he just realized something.

_Lauren Sinclair was the love of his life._

Her crimson hair curtained messily around her face, and Kieran reached out to tuck a few loose strands behind her ear. His hand lingered, before proceeding to comb the rest of her hair in a high ponytail, tugging her locks ever so slightly, erotically, pulling her face closer to his, until her hot breath dampened the skin near his lips.

She closed her eyes, her cheeks in a lightly flushing.

His turquoise eyes shined in as he leaned in to whisper something to her. “ _I_ -” _love you because you make me feel human_ , was what he wanted to say. But now was not the right time. Not now. Not yet.

So he stopped himself from speaking his truth.

Instead, he rested his forehead on hers and whispered, “I met with the messenger.”

“Oh? And who is the victim who you were tasked to get rid of?” Disappointment was evident in her quiet tone, as if she was expecting something else. But business was business.

The wind picked up from outside, through the windows, scattering the loose papers on the tables, drowning his words to everyone else except to her. His lips moved, and she listened to the name of the unfortunate soul that was damned by the Scythe. And they both sighed, dragged back to their reality.

Kieran White was the grim reaper of the syndicate called the Phantom Scythe. He was their executor, their agent of death, the biggest plague that had infected their beloved country of Ardhalis. Even now, he was acting as a spy for them, against everything he believed him, against all the people he would love to belong with.

He pulled his white ribbon from his hair, letting his dark locks flow with the breeze. It did not escape his attention at how some of their office mates were gawking at them in quiet awe. To them, they must be the most admirable power couple they’ve seen; sexual, poised, graceful, perfect.

But they were more than that.

_La Lune_. That was who they were.

Kieran tied Lauren’s hair in a bow; symmetrical, simple. Yet she looked elegant like a goddess.

He smiled as she pulled away, touching the top of her head, twirling the ribbon with her nimble fingers.

_Magnifique._

“It looks better on you than on me,” he smiled, tucking his hair behind his ears. His dark mane was almost always tied and secure, unlike Lauren’s wild hair that always flew dangerously in the wind.

“Thanks,” she returned, patting her hair down.

The rest of the office hooted and teased them, enjoying their romance as if it were a movie displayed to everyone. That was how they wanted to be seen, that was how they wanted to be known. To the Scythe, to the precinct, to the public. But more than that, to themselves.

_Beyond being the vigilantes La Lune._

However fun, however distracting the office was, however mundane their day jobs were, they still needed to return back wherever they needed to be once the sun set and the moon rose.

Their eyes simultaneously landed on Lieutenant Hawkes of the 11th precinct, happily talking with Sergeant Ladell.

Tonight, they were going to be busy. A life was on death sentence, and it will be up to their benevolent judgement if this soul will reach salvation, or fall to fiery damnation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Licentious Lovers](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25223173) by [ObliviateMyMind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObliviateMyMind/pseuds/ObliviateMyMind) was just dropped today! It is an accompaniment to [Beyond the Impasse ch. 14: Irreconcilable Information](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24221365/chapters/59434114).
> 
> \---
> 
> This is where the line is drawn. This chapter is a testament that Impasse AUCanonverse was in no way made to compete with the actual story of Purple Hyacinth. Impasse is riddled with conspiracy and theories formed during the s1-s2 downtime. Many characters that would be penned from hereon and have been penned are members of the PH official discord. This was made for fun, but had grown to be a universe of its own. I hope you continue to read it even after PH canon drops. This story is a testament to my love for PH, and I hope that you will continue to enjoy it long after it deviates from what actually happens.
> 
> Remember, Impasse is a darker take on the PH universe. The chapters will only get darker and more twisted now (trust me, the story hasn't even reached half, or even a quarter yet). I hope you won't compare it to actual PH. This is just a fanfiction, albeit, a very complicated one. 
> 
> The Impasse AUCanonverse will just get bigger with more side stories and longer chapters. With the drop of S2, I now have the liberty to fully go canon divergent. Expect great things. Thank you for reading up until now! Impasse is a pleasure to write, and I hope it is a pleasure to read for you.
> 
> \---
> 
> Yes, Olivia Anderson and Margi O'Sullivan are self inserts of your dearest authors. LOL and yes, she did almost die because Livia's horny ass ignored an earthquake. Remember the nameless archivists on Renewed Revenge? These are the boys. The'll be recurring from now on, these people. Who knows if they become important later.
> 
> Credits to Sinner of the Kettles server. She allowed me to use her name SANDV for this fic, inspired from a meme in the PH discord server.
> 
> (If you are wondering, yes, we will explore what is happening with the case of the death of Lady Sandv of House Ich.)
> 
> \---
> 
> SEASON 2 IS DROPPING ON JULY 14! READ READ READ!
> 
> All characters of Purple Hyacinth belong to [Sophism](https://www.instagram.com/deadsophism/?hl=en) and [Ephemerys](https://www.instagram.com/ephemerys_ph/?hl=en).
> 
> [Read Purple Hyacinth on Webtoons](https://www.webtoons.com/en/mystery/purple-hyacinth/list?title_no=1621&page=1)
> 
> [Official Purple Hyacinth Discord](https://discord.gg/DfkfTxD)


	21. Thrilling Tango

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do I still scare you?” he muttered at her jaw, licking the tip of her ear before biting, sucking harshly, slowly increasing the intensity of his hold around her, although with no intention to hurt her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Chokey choke, but in Tango
> 
> OST Part 1 while reading: [POR UNA CABEZA](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A79HM0H4UqA) by [Carlos Gardel](https://open.spotify.com/artist/05Q9xndTxhXhD5trpmTtfU?autoplay=true&v=A) and [Alfredo Le Pera](https://open.spotify.com/artist/2RlhBZqxwR1DxE5e4O0fP8?autoplay=true&v=A).
> 
> OST Part 2 while reading: [EL TANGO DE ROXANNE](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5tqjm5anx24) from [Moulin Rouge](https://open.spotify.com/album/5cbAqQZSEgRiiNjuEHWTXc).
> 
> _Loop the music ♥_

As the moon rose, the rain fell in heavy torrents from the dark sky. There was little warning that showed any signs that a storm was brewing; had there been, they might have taken the proper precautions and brought an umbrella to share between the two of them. Without the fear of their boots leaving marks that could be traced back to them or their base of operations, they ran through the forest at lightning speed, the mud splashing to their clothes and the rain washing the dirt away simultaneously.

“I never realized that the damned cave was this far!” Lauren shouted through the forest clearing, her visuals hazy as the wind howled around her.

Kieran turned his head and shouted back playfully, winking, “Careful officer, someone might overhear us.”

“Ever so scandalous, subordinate,” she replied flatly as she hoped through puddles of water.

He replied with a laugh, before stopping and turning around. “Are you okay back there?”

Lauren barely dodged the branch that almost hit her face, and almost slipped through a pool of mud, but Kieran caught her in time, pulling her into his arms as he cheekily smiled at her.

“ **Yeah, of course I am,** ” she gasped airily, pressing her full weight on him as she stumbled forward to him. “I really do have the most caring lover ever.”

His heart skipped a beat with her praise, and without the storm around them, he quite was sure that his heartbeat could be heard by the entire city of Ardhalis. Calming his overwhelming emotions, he steeled a smile and helped her regain her footing on the slippery ground.

“Of course you do. No one can replace an enigma like me in your life,” he declared proudly as they were finally in front of the waterfall.

The river was flowing stronger and angrier, threatening to sweep either of them to the sea with one unfortunate misstep. Kieran guided Lauren through the proper footholds so she would not fall into the gushing current beneath them.

“After you, my darling,” he said, pulling the gate open.

And finally, they were safe inside. Home sweet home. It was time to talk about the inevitable discussion of the Phantom Scythe’s latest order.

“I can’t believe the Purple Hyacinth’s lair isn’t getting trashed by that storm outside.”

“Can you stop talking as if this isn’t Lune’s lair as well?”

Kieran chuckled as he undid half of his buttons, walking to his phonograph to play a vinyl. He ran a hand through his long wet hair and removed his false spectacles as he waited. He turned to Lauren, saying, “Dance with me while we talk, darling. I’d hate to be bored with our long conversation.”

An eyebrow quickly rose when he saw that she had thrown her boots to the side and was halfway through removing her pants. He smirked as he watched how her top clung to her skin, ever so flawless; the outline of her underwear evident behind the wet clothing. He licked his lips as he walked over her and mischievously poked her side, “My my, officer, seducing me as early as now?”

He reached out to tug his ribbon from her hair, but she caught his wrist as she was kicking the rest of her muddy pants away. “Surely this is not just another excuse for you to have some fun, is it, subordinate?” she questioned with amusement, taking his arm to pull him to the centre of the sparring area. “Come on, let’s dance.”

_Kieran slowly caressed Lauren’s right arm, lifting from under it, before wrapping his left hand on her right. He pulled his right hand up from her hips, higher, on her back, as she laid her left hand on his bicep. He closed the space between them by pulling her closer, their chests touching as they gazed intently into each other’s eye. Kieran was still in his work clothes, albeit with his hair untied, glasses discarded, and top unbuttoned exposing his chest; while Lauren was just on her dress shirt, barefooted, with her wet hair tied in his white ribbon on a high ponytail. They stayed silently in abrazo cerrado, their breaths still, their hands tightening in its clasp, refusing the internal fire to lean in and kiss as they waited for the music. Time seemed to move slower as they felt their damp clothes clinging to their skins, the cold atmosphere of the cave making them shiver in their wet clothes.[♪♫Por Una Cabeza♫♪](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A79HM0H4UqA) started to play loudly against the background of the howling wind outside, and Kieran started to lead them._

“So, an assassination order,” Lauren began. “You seem to know that it was coming.”

“I have a divine knack of sensing when an order is going to be asked,” Kieran grinned.

_He led them slowly, stepping forward with his left foot as she mirrored by stepping back with her right. One step, two steps, and to the opposite side they went. Each movement they made was graceful and light._

“Did you know that you had to slaughter dozens of innocent people at the tower and murder everyone we exposed when we were investigating Flemmings?”

Her voice was stern and serious, and her eyes demanded the truth. Not that he could ever lie to her, but he was done with half-truths. He couldn’t help but give out an ironic smile. Lauren purposely dropped the word _brutally_. After all, he prided himself with quick and painless deaths.

“If I didn’t, I would have let us throw the late Ryan Flemmings into the Tower, but alas, my attempt to save him from impending doom was all but for naught,” he dramatically said. How ironic that each of his attempts to save lives was always rendered useless. “It seems that death is really inevitable.”

Hopefully, that would not be the case with Josephine Sterling-Hawkes.

_He took a wide step with his right foot and dipped them to the side, raising his left hand to put them in an exaggerated promenade position._

Lauren cocked her head to the side, her face calculating as she slowly said, “So you’ve known for a while that you would have to kill them, and yet you said nothing.”

_He snapped them to a pareja tomada, extending his left hand far so their arms were parallel to the ground. He leaned in, breathing sensually into her ear._

“It was a mistake of mine to not tell you about all my hobbies, but now you have complete access to the archives.”

_A shiver ran down her spine as she back lead them, stepping forward with her left foot, forcing him to step back. He scoffed, twirling her to regain the lead, but she hooked her leg around his waist, locking them in a piernazo. He ran a palm across her leg, before caressing his hand back to hers._

“You know, I trust you,” she muttered, tossing her head back to lean her neck on his shoulder.

“I am so touched, _mon amour._ But I did love upholding my reputation as a mysterious killer.”

“You did already promise to tell me everything.”

That was their agreement borne the day after Carmine Camelia. At the back of his mind, he was guilty of not following through. After all, he hasn’t had the energy to bring up Dylan Rosenthal, but that was within boundaries. He visibly paused, before pulling the small of her back towards him and leaning to the crook of her neck to whisper, “It’s not like I can hide anything from you, darling. As long as you do the same to me.”

_Lauren hummed, satisfied to not hear a lie, as she released her leg from wrapping around his. Two steps to the side._ _They spun and turned, before stepping three steps back._

“Josephine Sterling-Hawkes. How many days do you still have?”

“Six days including tonight. We need to start working on a plan of action.”

_Kieran broke away to start walking towards the desk, but Lauren pulled him back, towards her._

“Tell me what you think we should do.”

_They continued to dance as they talked in quiet voices and whispers. Kieran continued leading, his foot moving in elaborate sequence of agujas, planeo, and voleo atras as he discussed the pros in his plan, while Lauren followed with her own sequence of pasada, lustrada, and barrida as she threw him the cons._

She did not want to save Mrs. Hawkes as desperately as Kieran seemed to want to. She was a high ranking Scythe member, the wife of an apostle directly involved in the Allendale Train Tragedy, and the mother of a son who constantly suffered because of her addiction.

The world was probably going to be better off without her. But if Kieran needed this for some form self-gratification, who was she to stop him? She only really had one question.

“Will the Hyacinth be punished if he does not deliver a body?”

Lauren gasped as Kieran pulled her abruptly. “Would you stop talking about him as if he’s not me?” he whispered dangerously.

_She purposely stepped on his foot, throwing him an irritated look._

“You know exactly what I mean, subordinate,” she growled through gritted teeth.

_He pursed his lips into an exaggerated frown as he lifted her and spun three times._

Kieran’s plan was simple. They would send a Lune letter to William’s house, and hope to the gods that he would be able to smuggle her out of the country in time before the given deadline.

“I see two things happening, darling. Either the Lieutenant succeeds or he fails. If he is able to do the former, he would not be an orphan, and I would be punished heavily. If he fails, then he would be an orphan, and I will once again take a life from this earth.”

“That is, if William does not call the APD to tell them that Lune is retracting from their usual m.o. If that happens, then you won’t be able to sidetrack your Lune mission anymore.”

“If you say it like that, it does seem like there are more cons than pros,” he grinned in amusement. “But _La Lune_ is no stranger to challenges.”

_Kieran twirled Lauren two times, their hands raised over their as their other hands were on each other’s waists. He stepped his left foot to the side as they simultaneously brought their hands down, as she let her weight lean towards his left as he supported her._

“Still, I don’t want to see you hurt. What is the worst punishment given to an assassin who cannot perform?”

“Oh, the usual. A few stabs and lashes here and there. Nothing I am a stranger to,” he boasted.

Her gaze travelled through his body. From his open top, she can see some of his scars peeking out, testament to years of enduring a difficult life. She hasn’t had the chance to ask him extensively about his childhood yet, although from the little snippets he had dropped, it was apparent that he was a happy child thrown into an inhumane situation. He was free to share what he was comfortable with. But that didn’t mean that she was not curious. She was aware that things turned out bad for him during the day of the Allendale Train Tragedy, and that his scars were from his training. She knew that he wasn’t a monster; that he wasn’t always like this. But still, she did not know a lot of things about him.

“Was it that bad?”

_He stepped back to centre, his eyes still lingering on her face. They both stepped back and reached out, their hands soft on each other as she twirled before returning to abrazo cerrado. Two steps to the front._

“ **No, it was bearable.** But it turned out for the better, since you’re here now.”

_She smiled at him as they continued an array of small foot works as they danced in tempo._

“I don’t want that for you,” she said, but what she really wanted to say was that she’d rather if Mrs. Hawkes died if Kieran was going to get hurt in return.

It seemed like he could read what was on her mind as his expression melted and his eyes softened. “Don’t worry, even the worst of punishments will never be dished out for a petty failure.” Lauren instinctively pinched his fingers. They both knew what he was talking about.

_They simultaneously stepped back as they took each other’s hands, before Lauren twirled so they can dance in doble frente._

“They won’t dare, not after the reputation I’ve built. I’ve been starting to establish myself better in the Scythe. They need to be reminded that I am the Leader’s best assassin, not his favourite puppet. So I stabbed the Messenger the other day.”

Kieran watched with amusement as Lauren grimaced to observe the mirthful expression on his face. He was well aware that Lauren might berate him from showing enthusiasm for maiming a human being, but as of the moment, he barely cared. Apparently, Lauren’s hypocrisy was rubbing off him.

> “You don’t need to be clean. You are who you are. And I will always be here.”

It was enough that she was there. That in itself made him feel human again. So it surprised him when a small smile cracked on her lips.

“Did you enjoy doing it?”

He was under the assumption that she would be disappointed in him. After all, she did call him a monster for the massacre at the tower. Was his monstrosity rubbing off her?

_The music stopped._

Kieran abruptly let go of Lauren, stepping away and turning his back at her as he thought of the implications of their conversation. Even with his actions, he did his best to abide by strong rules and never let go of them. Why was it that he was understanding himself better as he bent more of his own rules? He should not be enjoying being the Purple Hyacinth, and she should not be consenting this blatant enjoyment of gore.

He heard her sigh, before saying, “You should try indulging yourself a little, subordinate. I’m sure the Messenger’s pain was warranted. After all, you have your strict moral codes, and I’ll be here to keep you in check.”

_The track changed, and the tune of[♪♫El Tango de Roxanne♫♪](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5tqjm5anx24) began playing. Lauren walked to stand close behind Kieran, snaking her right hand from the side of his hips to the middle of his exposed chest. He responded by resting his right hand over hers, before she abruptly slid out his grasp to step to the left, and tracing her fingernails along his back. She turned and completed a giro, until he caught her hips in his hands. His left hand went lower to her thighs, while his right hand went higher to her waist. He pulled her close to his body, making sure she could feel him grind at her ass, before supporting her weight as he leaned her to a side colgada._

“You truly are crooked enough to take my words at face value.” A low rumble echoed from his throat as he suppressed a laugh. “Tell me officer, is humanity beautiful?”

_Kieran turned using the ball of his heels as Lauren twirled. He caught her hip and stepped forward, tracing two fingers across her cheeks to tuck a stray lock of her wet hair behind her ear. His hand began to slide down the side of her neck, tightly gripping it with a delicate touch, as he cupped around it while planting a deep kiss on her collarbone._

“That’s a very philosophical question to ask during tango,” she replied as her eyes fluttered, hyper aware of his hand on her neck. Kieran noticed her stiffening at his tight hold. Usually, he caressed her with gentleness, uneager to trigger memories of his sins against her.

“Do I still scare you?” he muttered at her jaw, licking the tip of her ear before biting, sucking harshly, slowly increasing the intensity of his hold around her, although with no intention to hurt her.

_Lauren slid her left foot in between the hollow of Kieran’s feet, pushing away to give space between them. She bent back, dipping as low as she could go, letting him support her with a firm hand on the arch of her neck, before pulling her up while turning a quarter of an axis. Their faces were barely an inch away, and Kieran could see the anger on Lauren’s golden eyes._

“Stop it,” she ordered.

Who was he but her lowly subordinate? But he persisted, still pressing his hand firmly behind her neck. “Then answer the question,” he challenged, his turquoise eyes gleaming defiantly at her. “Do you still think I’m a monster?”

He had no intention to have a repeat of their fight, but he wanted to know if in some part of her, she was still afraid of him. In the aftermath of their unfortunate falling out, Lauren had developed the habit of touching her neck while talking to him, a habit that he tried to break out from her after their infiltration at Carmine Camelia. Random dinner dates, hand crafted coffee from her favorite store delivered right at her desk, walks by the river park; before she ultimately became his during the 11th precinct’s annual charity ball.

“Not like this. Not that tight.”

Kieran could see the distress beginning to dawn on her face, so he softened his hand instead, moving it to caress her cheeks instead. “I’m sorry, that was unwarranted of me.”

She did not break eye contact as she acknowledged his apology. He knew that she did not want to talk about that ever again. They already talked about it during their heart to heart in Carmine Camelia. Once was enough for Lauren.

_He returned them back to abrazo cerrado. One step, two steps. They struggled for dominance in leading the dance as they performed an array of voleo and volcada. She held his right hand as she spun away from him, stretching her arm out as they positioned in one line. Lauren stepped back, before jumping into Kieran. She wrapped her left leg around his outstretched right thigh, while she extended her right leg over his left shoulder. Using her arms as leverage, she pulled herself closer, her warm breath hitting the top of his right ear._

“I think you’re human,” she whispered in a low voice as her fingers traced his cheeks. “A flawed man, but a man nonetheless.”

_Her hand sensually ran across the sides of his neck, her fingernails scraping deep before digging them deeper. Every touch from her felt electrifying against his skin, reminding him that he was not numb, that he could feel. She dipped back as she clung tightly into his throat, his hand supporting her back, and he absorbed the feeling of her hand around him and the image of her so open end vulnerable to the lust welling from deep within._

“But do you think you’re human?”

_He pulled her back up, her wet hair whipping violently, sending tiny droplets of water flying. She hasn’t let go of his neck, yet somehow, he liked the feel of her small hands around him. His eyes burned as he gave her a look that demanded that she hold tighter. He wanted her to control him, to deprive him, to make her understand that she was the only one in this entire world who had the right to ever hurt him. He wanted her to punish him and to make her understand that he would enjoy it. Kieran felt her grip around him tighten, and he responded by shamelessly letting out a low groan, pulling her hips lower so that he could make her feel what she was doing to him. He hooked his left arm over her extended leg over his shoulder to keep her from falling out of place. He caressed his left hand from her inner thigh to her ankle, before licking and planting small kisses on her calf. He staggered but held firm, unwilling to drop her while he slowly felt the lack of oxygen beginning to take its toll. Finally, she let go of her hold and released him. He gasped for a full breath, caressing his forehead on hers, erotic satisfaction on evident in his eyes, while he watched Lauren bite her lower lip sensually, confusion visible at her own golden eyes._

_They stared at each other for a long time, their breaths mixing in the minimal space between their lust stricken faces._

“I try to have a semblance of it, but truth be told, I’ve been confused ever since you arrived in my life,” he finally said, still panting, eyes twinkling.

“I confused you? How did I do that?” Lauren replied with a smug smile, her thumb caressing where she dug her nails. A rumbling laugh echoed from him.

“Allow me to tickle your brain, _mon amour_. What makes a monster and what makes a man?”

_He released her leg from his arm, spinning his torso to give her the momentum she needed to gracefully jump off him. He took her from behind and into a doble frente, before lifting her and spinning, sitting Lauren on his leg outstretched for a sentada._

“Enlighten me, subordinate.”

He smiled, remembering a memory from about eight years ago. “Have you ever felt that tinge of warmth when you see those subtle moments in life that remind you that humanity can be beautiful?”

Kieran waited for Lauren’s reply, but it was evident in her face that she hadn’t paused enough to appreciate the mundane serenity of life. His face softened as he continued, “That sense of humanity, I don’t ever want to lose it.”

_He felt her foot rubbing on the side of his leg that was supporting her. Kieran pulled back his face and watched as an awed expression dawned on her face._

“That said, I could not wash away the blood marred on my hands, whatever my reason was for spilling them.”

_She draped her left arm over his shoulders to lean back, arching her back low._

“You’re trying though,” Lauren reasoned out, and Kieran was rather thankful for her double standards, especially since he was the recipient of her hypocritical affections.

_She ran her right hand across her thigh as he snaked his left hand over her chest to the back of her shoulder._

“Here comes the tricky part. I feel like my sense of humanity has been highly affected by your own insincere hypocrisy.”

_Lauren snapped her body up, slamming her forehead on his. Kieran recoiled, frowning, sliding her off his leg as she seethed at him._

“The audacity to put the blame on me!”

_A laugh erupted from Kieran’s chest as he maneuvered to stand behind her, a hand over her chest and another one across her waist. He pressed his face on the side of her cheek and swayed them to the side._

“See, I care a lot about my humanity. I try so hard to disassociate Kieran White with the Purple Hyacinth. But here you are, reminding me that I am one and the same.”

_She tilted her head back to rest it on her shoulder as her hands slid to his arm over her waist._

“Well, you are. There are many things you couldn’t have done if you were not both of them.”

He smirked as he thought about it. There were also many lives that would have been spared if he was not both. “Indulge me with a list of things I could not do if I wasn’t who I am.”

_Kieran turned, and they performed another series of crosses and steps._

“You won’t be enacting your vengeful desire to get rid of the Leader. You would not have met me.”

“Touché.”

_Two steps backward, one step forward. Lauren twirled three times, raising both her hands up._

“On that night, you could have killed me. But you hesitated. You have not told me why.”

_He grasped her hips, pulling her closer to him, the tip of his nose caressing hers as their foreheads touched. She was the most beautiful thing in his life, and he could not wait for the day he when he could wake up next to her each morning, take peaceful walks each afternoon, and sleep soundly beside each other every evening._

“Because,” he began with a whisper, his heart beating intensely as he stared into her gold and pensive eyes. He took his time as she slowly melted into his arms. “For the first time in years, you made me feel human again.”

There were many things Kieran White hasn’t told Lauren Sinclair. He had never told her how her eyes, once full of hope and happiness, was etched into his heart, becoming the beacon that reminded him to continue looking for the beauty in humanity while he was drowning and losing himself during his assassination trainings. He hasn’t told her how listening to her failed dates during shadowing missions really lighted up his days when he had no one but himself to talk with. He hasn’t told her how when he finally got a close look on her eyes after all these years, he suddenly remembered the serene and peaceful days, untainted by the horrors of the real world, by the blood of the people he had killed.

Kieran White hasn’t told her how deeply, how madly, how painfully in love he was with Lauren Sinclair.

_She let her hands fall to his shoulders, massaging them with gentle hands._

“You make me feel human too.”

Kieran raised his eyebrow. “How so?”

_Lauren led them. Three sidesteps and a turn._

“You make me feel fallible. That I am not a vengeful god that can right all the wrong in this world. That I can make mistakes, and you will always be there to help point me to the right direction. Because you will never leave me alone.”

The monster and the goddess, coming to grace the earth with their presence to mingle with the mortals. The monster and the goddess, finding balance in their humanity.

_Kieran hummed as they swayed slowly from side to side. Lauren laid her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes as she basked herself in his presence. His gaze, his touch, his scent, his taste. He was entirely hers and hers alone._

“Stay. Promise me that you will stay in my life for as long as you can, Kieran White. Don’t you dare leave me alone the way so many people have.”

_It was as if the gods were blessing him. He paused, keeping his cool even if he was all but stunned at her demand. Slowly, he gently pulled away from her, kneeling down on one knee with both of his hands on her hips, his eyes serious as he offered his soul to her._

“Lauren Sinclair, I promise to stand by you as Lune, for better or worse, to find the Leader, to bring down the Phantom Scythe, during troubling times and aand far after that, during peaceful times, until death do us part, I will forever be your subordinate, and you, my _mon amour_.”

Lauren’s eyes widened as she stared down at him in disbelief. He knew what that sounded like, and he meant every word he said. A tender smile graced her beautiful face. He could see in her gaze how much his words meant to her. She always did have a penchant for his honesty and his acts of service. And it made him fall further in love.

_He allowed her moment of surprise to pass before he lifted her up and twirled her in the air, putting her down gently with care and reverence. Lauren stepped forward, both hands on his chest as she leaned towards him. Her eyes were filled with intense passion; pensive, in deep thought, as if she was contemplating._

“Kieran…” she whispered, as if hesitating. She bit her lip as her eyes darted around for a bit before finally latching back at his.

“Go on,” he nudged encouragingly. “I’m listening.”

In her eyes, he can see the history of their partnership. From the deadly threats, the snarky banters, the intense spars, the steamy dances, the gentle touches. He could also see the hurt and pain he caused her just by merely existing in her life. Kieran shamefully relished the thought that even after all the challenges that wedged their alliance, she still found him worthy of her affections.

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” she finally declared quietly, closing her eyes as she tipped her toes to gently kiss Kieran.

It was his turn to hold a breath, because he thought that she would be the last to fall hopelessly in love between the two of them. He felt his emotions swell as he closed his eyes and returned her affections, letting go of their dance as he moved his hands on her waist, pulling her in further to deepen their shared kiss. Lauren slowly wrapped her arms around his neck, clawing his damp loose hair as she bit his lower lip in aggressive desperation.

Just like their first kiss.

How did she fall in love with a person like him? He let go of her, their faces only a mere breath away, their noses almost touching, just ever so slightly. A bitter laugh erupted from his lips.

“I hope you know what a monumentally stupid mistake that is, darling. But here I am, committing the same sin.”

Lauren twirled a finger around his hair, batting her eyes from under him. “Hate the sin, love the sinner, Kieran.”

He could not stop the stupid smile smearing his lips. Because deep down, he was over the moon. After a few seconds of comfortable silence, he hummed, kissing her neck in reverence where he had hurt her not too long ago.

“I love you just as much, Lauren Sinclair,” Kieran breathed back. He hadn’t planned on saying this. Not now, not today. Not when there were so many things unsaid, not when there were many mysteries unsolved. Not when he was not sure if he deserved to love someone like her.

He pulled away, grimacing as he stared into loving eyes. Somehow, he felt a pang of humiliation because he was defiling her.

“If you ever think that I am not up to your standards anymore, you’re free to leave me,” he quipped, grinning. “Just don’t cheat on me, or **I might have to kill you,** ” he warned in jest, entertaining the ironic idea that she might engage in adultery behind his back.

Lauren held honesty in the highest of regards. It was one of the many reasons he began to fall for her, just shortly after forging their partnership. How he loved that she could go toe to toe with him both in combat and in intellect. How she was never intimidated with him, how she never patronized him. How she shouted at him, laughed with him, smiled at him. How she was stubborn and treated him like an equal, like a human being.

“As if I will ever cheat on you. And no, I don’t plan to leave you, not ever.”

_The music stopped, and only the howling wind from the outside can be heard. Their breaths were heavy as they stared at each other, as if waiting who will make the first move between them. A crackle of thunder split the air, echoing inside the cave, and fire lit in their eyes. They started clawing at each other, desperate to undress. She hooked her arms around his neck and pulled herself up, mounting him and wrapping her legs around his waist as she devoured his lips with hungry kisses, silently begging that he take her then and there. Kieran snaked his hands under her legs, gripping her thighs tightly as he explored her mouth with his over eager tongue. He didn’t know when they got there, but he slammed her back against the damp wall of the cave, pressing himself to her body as he showered her with kisses in an attempt to sate the forlorn desire that was consuming the both of them._

The deadline didn’t seem to matter. There was so much they could do later in the night. But at the heat of the moment, all they wanted to be was to have each other, to be with each other, to be together forever. Behind the dark clouds pouring the heavy torrents to the earth, the moon rose high among the stars, hidden, but there.

* * *

Dressed like devils of the night, they moved like phantoms in the shadows. Their light footsteps were quiet as they jumped from one apex to the next, the sole of their boots kissing the city with feather light pecks. The blue light that poured from the moon outlined them, forming dark silhouettes of flightless angels that leapt through the roofs of the quiet City of Ardhalis.

Occasionally, Kieran would grab Lauren’s hand and twirl her into a graceful dance, his eyes gleaming under the cover of his hat, his smile invisible behind the mask that covered his face.

“Aren’t you a bit too happy tonight, subordinate,” Lauren gasped as Kieran playfully pulled her behind a chimney to press a quick kiss on the crook of her neck.

“I, my darling, am feeling rather ecstatic tonight. Indulge me with your love and affection.”

Kieran White felt human enough.

She was his lifeline to this cruel world who all but her believed that he was nothing more but the cursed grim reaper he was, that he was nothing more but the monster he thought he was.

_The Purple Hyacinth was human enough._

One step, two steps, he led her, until finally, they finally arrived on the roofs of the Hawkes Mansion. Lauren was familiar with the Lieutenant’s home, and seamlessly directed them to William’s study. The poor man was still wherever Hawkes Enterprise and the Phantom Scythe needed him to be. Whatever William was attempting, they would just have to trust that he knew what he was doing.

They would just have to trust that he would keep doing the right thing.

Gently, they left the envelope on his desk before disappearing into the night.

_What makes a monster and what makes a man?_

Did it even matter when to err is human?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter needed A LOT of backreading old chapters and canon episodes. Sorry if it took a while. We needed to reorient ourselves back to Impasse, because PH LATEST CHAPTERS ARE SO BEAUTIFUL, ACK, MY HEART. I think I mentally shut down from writing because I just needed to think a lot about canon details. Eph and Soph are genius.
> 
> This is a very series defining chapter in terms of Kieran and Lauren's relationship. We really hope that you enjoyed it ♥. There are so many visual cues here, so many allegories to their relationship . I enjoyed writing this so much! This is the longest single sequence as of the moment.
> 
> We will try to make this as canon compliant as possible, using all the details we have already worked in.
> 
> A BIG THANK YOU TO [Missterryrighter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missterryrighter/pseuds/Missterryrighter) for helping with the dance part. For real, thank you! We are so glad to have you in the HG Server.
> 
> \---
> 
> LauKi. But in Tango.
> 
> \---
> 
> All characters of Purple Hyacinth belong to [Sophism](https://www.instagram.com/deadsophism/?hl=en) and [Ephemerys](https://www.instagram.com/ephemerys_ph/?hl=en).
> 
> [Read Purple Hyacinth on Webtoons](https://www.webtoons.com/en/mystery/purple-hyacinth/list?title_no=1621&page=1)
> 
> [Official Purple Hyacinth Discord](https://discord.gg/DfkfTxD)


	22. Weary Witness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was not fine. He will not try to handle this anymore.
> 
> And it felt good to feel free.
> 
> It felt home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Signs of anxiety, bottling up emotions, downward spiral, possibly depression. Total *character* deconstruction.
> 
> OST while reading: [WILLIAM'S THEME](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5OhW6qFiHFQ) by [Sophism](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCfAaaSEJvCIGq9cfWvHqwIw).
> 
> Kym's favorite tune: [THE LULLABY](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qh2hDT58GHY) by [Sophism](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCfAaaSEJvCIGq9cfWvHqwIw).
> 
> _Loop the music ♥_

_Turn back the pendulum. Back to[Curious Cases](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24221365/chapters/59293615), and watch from the eyes of another._

“I am Sherlock Holmes,” Sergeant Kym Ladell suddenly announced, raising her hand to the sky as if she were performing in a play.

Lieutenant William Hawkes was standing in front of her desk, about to ask if she was done with the papers she were reading, when the hyper child suddenly took out a top hat from some magical pocket and plopped it to her head. He raised an eyebrow, looking displeased as the room collectively ignored the sergeant’s usual theatrics.

No, he was actually trying to suppress a growing grin from seeping into the corners of his lips.

Kym Ladell of the 11th precinct. He still remember her first day at work, just about two years ago, when he was but a sergeant. Short black hair that gently danced, steps that sprung and bounced, and a mischievous glint on her hazel eyes; she was a storm that blasted through the office door with such swagger.

Quite literally.

___

“Who are you and what are you doing here?!” he had screeched when the _civilian_ started flipping through case files and running around the patrol office, giggling like a radical maniac. “Who let this mad raccoon in?!”

Detective Copper, who had come to collect some documents, had snorted loudly beside him. “That girl’s going to be a massive pain in your ass,” he said in a berating tone, before stalking out of the patrol office.

“What do you mean, detective? Who is she?!”

“This is Officer Ladell,” Hermann had said from the door, face hardened but with just a ghost of a small smirk lingering the corner of his lips. At his call, this new officer had bounced back to the captain’s side, grinning widely. “Sergeant Hawkes, take care of her.”

William found his mouth hanging open. “Sir, I don’t think I should be personally responsible to babysi-”

He had stopped when the Captain raised an eyebrow on him. He gulped. The Sergeant had a reputation to keep, and insubordination would do him no good. And so he instead had said, “Of course sir, I will take care of her.”

Hermann had looked at him with nodding approval. “Indeed you should Hawkes. I expect a lot from you, and I believe you will be a good influence on Officer Ladell here. Groom her to her full potential. I expect a lot from the both of you.”

_Who was she that Hermann had to personally introduce her?_ Admittedly, he felt a pang of jealousy. Captain Hughes Hermann had always been his prime motivator ever since his father’s death, so it rather irked him a bit when he found out that he had another _protégé_. It surprised him that she was competent, but then again, Hermann had a good eye. She climbed the ranks even faster than he ever could.

“How could you let a mere commoner with no background beat your record?” his mother had scolded him. “It’s like you can’t even do anything right.”

That he could ignore. Kym deserved her promotions.

Instead, the real blow on his pride was Kym’s growing closeness with Lauren. He had felt offended that she was able to wedge herself between their long standing _friendship._ She slowly became Lauren’s official best friend.

_Lauren never considered him as such. No one ever did. He was alone._

Yet for two years, Ladell had trailed behind him, annoying him, giving him the undivided attention that no one else had ever given him. It was uncomfortable. No one had ever attempted to latch themselves to him as much as she did.

She even gave him a nickname. _Williame_ , she had affectionately started to call him, much to his annoyance.

_He had secretly loved it._

___

“Right. Uh. Can I borrow that?” he instead asked, eying the case file about Harvey Wood that was neatly closed on the top of her desk.

Kym only smiled at him, her eyes sparkling as she coyly put a hand on her waist and raised a finger up, wiggling it from side to side. How can she act like this when everything was falling apart for him?

“Dearest Lieutenant, is this how you treat your officers? Like we are vagrant criminals with no right to read anymore? Like a vulture you come in and take my books. My intellectual mind would be famished! Will you be my hero and take responsibility?”

She said it so dramatically, as if she were channeling her inner Lady Arthingham. With the back of her hand positioned on her forehead, she opened one eye to take a peek at her _Williame_ , grinning as she did.

Kym always did have that boundless energy as bright as a clear day. And so he laughed heartily. Even with all the fuck ups all around him, she was one of the few things that remained constant in his miserable life.

_He’ll be fine_. _He will handle it_.

“I didn’t do anything! I didn’t break him,” he heard Kym whine, her eyes towards her fellow officers. Of course she didn’t. She can never do anything wrong; not in his eyes. Never. Little did she know, she was one of the few things that kept him held together throughout these rough couple of years.

“This is exactly what I love about you,” he found himself saying out loud.

And he meant every word of it.

* * *

Back at home, in his study, located on the east wing of the Hawkes Mansion, he continued mulling over the files that he gathered from the archives. His eyebrows knitted closer and closer, his forehead furrowing more after each turned page. The further he read, the more he understood. Everything he ever did was all for naught.

Everything he ever believed in was an illusion that never was.

_The Purple Hyacinth’s first murder._

He flipped through the pages and thoroughly read all that was known during the once nameless assassin’s debut. An abandoned church falling to ruin and decay. A man of power hanging dead from a chandelier. A single stalk of the national flower, left carefully to make a statement. A pool of blood, dripping from above, ominously signaling an era of rampant fear.

___

William had been a young cadet in the police academy when the news of this new killer was plastered on papers everywhere. On his father’s funeral, people he knew had talked with him in solace, consoling him with empty words of encouragement as a blur of unfamiliar faces looked at him with sorrow and pity. His mother had stood on the corner, unresponsive; drinking as always.

He was alone.

But he had always been alone. _He’ll be fine_. _He will handle it_. _Like how he’d been handling it all his life._

He had not shed a single tear that night.

“Hawkes,” a voice had called out to him, pulling him out of a deep trance.

It had been less than a week and he had already gone back to school. To the eyes of his classmates, he might have looked like the responsible, mature, dependable son, but he actually couldn’t care less. With the absence of his father, he had become the primary target of his mother’s hysterics, and frankly, he was too tired to deal with it all.

“Hawkes,” the voice had called out again. He had finally peeled his eyes from the gardens.

“You should take another week off school.”

Hughes Hermann was the captain of the 11th precinct. He had an impressive _resume_ , and might have been one of his father’s friends, but William wouldn’t know anything about that.

“You don’t know anything,” his mother had always said.

They were eating in the cafeteria together after the Captain said he wanted to discuss something with him. No doubt something related to his father.

“I’m scouting you.”

William’s head had turned to Hermann, who was looking straight at him with expecting eyes. “You’re at the top of your grade, you will graduate fast, and your evaluations are amazing. After graduation, I hope you accept a post in the 11th precinct.”

_Why? Why would he want that?_

“Are you sure it’s me you want? Lauren has a better standing than I do and-”

“Ms. Sinclair will do just fine,” Hermann had cut him off. “I can see that she’s a very driven individual. Too driven as a matter of fact. You on the other hand, Mr. Hawkes, need a bit more of a nudge.”

“I don’t think I quite understand, sir,” he had bugan, but he had known exactly what the Captain was talking about. He might have had the ability to score high grades, but he had never felt any victory doing so. It was as if everything was a blur.

“You’ve got quite the potential Hawkes. And I’m looking forward to see what you can do with it. My precinct will be open if you ever decide to do your training with us next term. And I expect you to be there. You’ll be fine. You will handle it.”

He had left without another word. He was the first person to ever tell William that he had potential.

And for the first time, he found himself motivated to do something better.

___

William closed the folder and looked at his family portrait now hanging above the fireplace. He frowned at the uncanny resemblance he had with his father. It was as if he was morphing into the man he never wanted to be.

The expectations to follow the his father’s footsteps, the pressure placed on his shoulders to elevate the family’s status even more, the corrupt practices engaged to hoard more wealth for the already rich Hawkes estate. But more than anything, it was because the man only ever looked at William with contempt, as if he were the greatest disappointment.

Even if he were not an apostle, William still hated him just as much.

After all, Stefan Hawkes never loved his son; the imperfect copy who could never be a fraction of what his father was.

The Hyacinth was right to remove him from this world.

_The Honolulu case._

The appropriation of the harbour was the major investment banked on by Felipe Sterling. He was a man who did not care about rumors and public opinion; on the contrary, he basked in it.

“Bad publicity is still publicity,” he once grinned at William when he came by to discuss business with Josephine.

A large case was filed against Honolulu by smaller companies who banded together. It was obviously a violation of the Ardhalis Competitive Law, they cried, especially in conjunction with the newly passed River and Harbor Bill.

_‘This is monopolization. This is blatant corruption.’_

Little did they know, this power move was an act by the Phantom Scythe in an elaborate plan still unknown to everyone, and to himself.

___

“Tell me, my boy, why don’t you want to take over the company?” Felipe had asked him once.

_Because nothing I did was good enough._

“I would like to try being a police officer first,” he had replied instead, which was of partial truth. It was either to be a police or be a businessman, as those were the only two option his parents would allow him.

Being a police officer would give him a chance to be like Tristan Sinclair, a man he idolized. A different type of Chief of Police compared to how his father had been. Besides, he’d rather not be bothered with the questionable business ethics his parents now engaged in with the _family business_.

“Interesting, William. One more step to becoming like your father!” his uncle had said daintily as he tapped his finger on the dinner table. Felipe smiled at him, and William smiled back.

How could he not, when his parent’s watchful eyes were scrutinizing him.

Stefan Hawkes had resigned from his post as the Ardhalis Chief of Police when William was just an eight year old boy, to manage the the then Sterling Enterprise renamed Hawkes Enterprise full time.

He could have made it working two jobs full time, as he was a man of many talents, but for some reason, passed the title to Tristan Sinclair instead.

But the connections he made remained useful in running a business. Even as a young boy, William knew what corruption was, and it didn’t feel right.

Could he ever be a different type of police officer than his father?

“That boy will never amount to anything if all he does is play the piano all day,” Stefan had scoffed.

William had hung his head low.

Of course he can be a different type of officer, because he will never be his father.

His mother had sipped from her wine glass. “Come come, at least the boy is useful for something. We can marry him off. Aren’t you close to the Sinclair girl, my son?”

_My son._ She only ever called him that when she wanted something done her way.

“Yes mother but-” he had begun.

“I’ll arrange a meeting with the Sinclairs, maybe they can betroth our son to their daughter.”

_Lauren will never consider him as such. She liked Dylan more than him._

“Don’t waste your time, Josephine. _They_ are stuck with an agreement with the Whites. I think she’s already betrothed to the White’s boy.”

_White boy? Wasn’t that a little racist?_

“Oh, I forgot. But don’t _they_ have a big plan for that boy? Wouldn’t the Sinclair girl be free to marry someone else by then?”

“You know _they_ plan to marry them to make sure the boy has a place in society in the future. The Sinclair girl is the best girl for that.”

“But our son needs someone on his level and there is no one-”

Felipe had coughed. “You do know that your _son_ is still on the dinner table.”

“And it won’t make a difference whether he’s here or not.”

William chewed his inner cheeks. He hated it here.

“Is that all you can think about, Josephine? There are more urgent things to consider besides this blasted child’s marriage. Just wed him to some noble family instead so he can become titled.”

“Ugh no. These nobles think that they are above us, when the merchants are far stronger financially. I can’t even fathom why we haven’t bought a title yet. Look at John, he can afford the Viscount title-”

“You know that _they_ sponsored Redcliff to buy the title so _they_ can watch the inner circle. They hate the nobles as much as we do. But I won’t buy a title. That’s not what we wanted when we began this fight in the first place.”

William had continued eating as he zoned out of the conversation. He had stared at the bouquet at the centre table. It was beautiful today, with purple hyacinths, red dahlias and snapdragons.

The next day, the news about the Allendale Train Tragedy had been plastered on the front page.

___

Had he been a child more involved on the dealings of his parents, would it have come to this? Did it even matter to ask now, when he was already part of the Phantom Scythe?

William knew that this acquisition was related to the importations now handled by the Hawkes Enterprise, taken over from a company now foreclosed. It was just a day since his induction to the syndicate, yet he already knew that he was going to be busy. He glanced at his calendar. In the weekend, a few days from now, he was going to have a meeting with his uncle, who will introduce him to the people he would work with. It will be full of fake smiles and sham pleasantries, with tight handshakes hiding personal agendas.

_Meet the new CEO of Hawkes Enterprise._ Bah. He was all but a puppet.

After all, he was just a stand in for his unavailable mother and his deceased father. But h _e will handle it_.

_The golden viper venom._

As elusive as the Purple Hyacinth, the Viper left no traces of her identity, lest a calling card made of the world’s most expensive poison. Who knew that this assassin was a woman of rare beauty, with ruby eyes and vibrant pastel hair that blossomed like carnations. Her classy demeanor and gorgeous facade had him almost fooled.

_Not anymore._

Reading the report on Harvey’s death now shed a new light for him. The Viper had claimed that the deceased officer was a spy for the Scythe, but that did not warrant what she had done to him. No. Not what she did after killing him.

Her beauty was a skin that that hid the horrible person underneath. Nevermind working for a crime syndicate; never mind being a merciless killer who enjoyed watching the pain of others. Yes, she was dangerous; yes, she was murderous. But more than that, she was a slimy snake, incarnate of depravity.

Belladonna Davenport disgusted him.

___

With a sure grip on the pen, he had signed the papers. This was it, the moment he had dreaded. There had always been a small voice at the back of his head that suggested that maybe the _family business_ was involved with the Phantom Scythe, but he had never listened to it.

He had chosen to ignore it, to turn a blind eye at it, to hang his head low, as with everything wrong his family had ever done.

“Well, that settles it then,” Bella had giggled elegantly. “Now I don’t have to kill Sergeant Ladell.”

It made his blood boil that she even dared to say _her_ name with her heathen tongue. _Kym Ladell_. He needed to make sure that she would stay safe and ignorant from all of this.

“Yet.”

He had refused to let any emotion overcome his face, but the way she smugly smiled at him made him want to pull out a gun and shoot her right there. He will not let her touch Kym, he will not let her come near the precinct, and he will do what he must to play any role just to keep her safe.

“Who is this Kym Ladell?” his mother had spluttered as she downed another shot of vodka.

“Oh, it’s the Lieutenant’s lovely wife. They’ve been married for two years now,” the Viper had cooed in a playful tone. “I believe they even have children.”

Josephine had scoffed and waved her hand dismissively. “Get those fantasies out of your head. I already told you, you will marry the Sinclair girl.”

William had clenched his jaw. For years, he had kept attempting to tell his mother to drop this affair. Lauren will never marry him. Not back then, not now, not ever. And how can his mother even suggest that now, when he had just become a member of the Phantom Scythe.

_Lauren would murder him. Lauren would never forgive him for engaging in that._

Tim Sake had started laughing. “Are you talking about Detective, whoops, I meant Officer Sinclair? You’re going to marry that mean bitch?”

These people were lucky he didn’t have his gun.

With a firm expression, he had looked at his mother and strongly said, “I won’t.”

“Why, is it because she’s still hung up with the death of the Rosenthal boy? It’s been ten years, she should have gotten over it. And don’t worry about her betrothed, we’ll make it work.”

_Lauren was engaged? With whom?_

Sake had whistled. “Rosenthal boy? Oho, well isn’t that interesting, doll?” he said, leaning close to Bella to whisper in her ear.

They should not have been discussing this in front of other people, but the onlookers’ reactions were baiting him to engage further.

He should put an end to this.

“She already has a boyfriend and Chief Sinclair approve of him.”

“Who? I’ll run a background check for you, _my son_.”

“An archivist by the name of Kieran White.”

By this time, Tim Sake had started snickering, and Bella’s eyebrows had been raised in sheer amusement. Felipe’s lips had parted, and Josephine had dropped her bottle.

“Josephine, obviously, _they_ both plan to see through that part, however different their opinions on other matter were,” Felipe had sighed, flashing his sister with a grin. “It was always a losing game, trying to betroth William to the Sinclair girl.”

“But I agreed to this because…” she had begun quietly, barely audible, before shutting her mouth.

“Go on Josephine, is there anything you want to share with all us,” Felipe had prodded maliciously, his voice jovial, but his eyes deviant.

She may be intoxicated, but Josephine had pursed her lips. “You will not take anything from me ever again, dear brother,” she had spat, splashing the glass of vodka in Felipe’s face.

_What was happening? What did these people know? He was supposed to be in a criminal syndicate, not a family drama._

“What’s wrong with Kieran White?” he had found himself saying.

But everyone had ignored him. Just as everyone always did.

When he had sent them to the door, Bella had cornered him on the wall. “Remember our little talk about Sergeant Ladell, Lieutenant Hawkes. You would not want her to end up like poor Harvey,” she whispered to his ear, the blunt of her cold blade pressing against his skin.

He could feel the sweat beads roll down against his forehead. He had read the report, he knew how Harvey had died.

With the golden viper venom, now dripping against his skin.

“You fucking skank,” Tim had growled, pressing against Bella’s back, adding weight to William front. “You fucked another dead body, didn’t you?”

William had pulled back a breath as he felt Sake’s hand groping Bella’s breast, which were pressed against his chest. He exhaled as she had sheathed back the blade, but the two bodies had refused to get off him.

A merry laugh had spilled from the assassin’s mouth as she wrapped her thin arms around the Lieutenant’s neck; her painted lips against his ears purring and moaning as she detailed how she screwed over the officer’s dead body.

He had wanted to throw up, he had wanted to push them away, but Sake had pinned the them on the corner, grinding against Bella from behind as he pushed William’s shoulder against the wall, in place.

He had never felt as helpless as he did today.

The Lieutenant zoned out as the degenerate couple climaxed together and pushed themselves away from him.

“You didn’t even become hard, what are you, a fa-” but William cannot hear them.

Bella kissed his cheek affectionately, before turning away and walking out the door. “Remember what I told you about Harvey. If you move in any way that would make us be suspicious of you, its her corpse that I’ll be screwing next time.”

“And I told you, I’ll play my part well,” he had said with a steeled expression.

_And again, he told himself that he’ll be fine_. _He will handle it_.

___

The Lieutenant closed the folders close and laid them in a neat stack on top of his desk. He was confused, he was angry, and frankly, he just wanted to disappear. _He did not know if he was fine. He did not know if he can handle it._

* * *

He frowned as he saw what the postman had delivered. Again, the special package with the green vials came. He sighed. Those drugs had kept themselves from police hands, and he had a part in sweeping it under the rug as he did not want his mother incarcerated. What a missed opportunity. Had he had the guts to send one of those little glass vials to the investigation department, maybe everything would not have escalated this way.

_Or it would not have made a difference, because there were spies everywhere._

He was going to meet the stakeholders and business partners today. _He did not know if he’ll be fine._

* * *

“Mr. Evans,” William said amiably, shaking the hand of the last man to greet him. He looked around. Many of these people were distinguished members of society. Lawyers, businessmen, members of the elite society of Ardhalis. He looked around. Bella and Sake were nowhere to be found.

The reception was held at Carmine Camelia, an exclusive eastern restaurant that only allowed people in by reservations.

Apparently even this establishment was operated by the Phantom Scythe. He took a mental note to check out who was the registered owner of this place.

_“Calamity comes for every one of us, and assumes the shape that will be sure to hurt us the most.”_ This was the Phantom Scythe’s mantra, used to identify each other during first meetings.

It was a very ominous quote.

He found himself discussing the latest business trades operated under the 13th apostle. It was like being cast in both light and darkness at the same time. The more he heard about the Scythe operations, the more he cannot understand them.

Nothing made sense. Weren’t they supposed to be advocating for equality and a classless society?

Or was that all just a ploy to attract people to a cause that had never been?

“Collectively, we have finally acquired ninety percent of the shares of the Royal Navy’s Shipyards,” the older Atty. Ridgeway said. “The ten percent belongs to the Aveasthers, but that’s the point, yes?”

From the back of his memory, William recalled Robert de la Roca, a victim of the double murder case. Was his death used to service more of the Leader’s goals, rather than just the simple process of eliminating of opponents from the board?

“So we both have the public docks and the royal shipyard now.”

“And the importations are underway?”

“More are coming. We will make it bigger than what was originally intended. Mr. Sake ordered more. The 13th is compromising for the 7th’s delay in plans.”

Ah, so two apostles were working this operation.

“Mr. Hawkes here will be taking over for Mr. Flemmings.”

“And the Leader still hasn’t suspected anything?”

Wait, what?

They were not operating under the Phantom Scythes’ Leader?

While listening in, William realized three vital pieces of information: nobody knew who the leader and apostles were; the 7th apostle, with the help of a few more apostles, were planning to stage a rebellion against the monarchy; and many Scythe members were tired of the Leader’s lack of action.

Apparently the Phantom Scythe was just like any other organization. No one agreed on anything, and there was an unhealthy amount of backstabbing. He could see it in everyone’s faces. He could see it behind their smiles.

These people were just here for their own personal agendas.

“This is utterly ridiculous, what are we waiting for. Didn’t the Messenger meet with Davenport a three months or so ago?”

“We were supposed to proceed last February 17, but the party ended up with no fireworks!”

“They said that the Messenger ordered us all to lie in wait. I mean, it doesn’t matter; we all still get our money. Something must have happened that made the 7th push back his plans.”

“I’d rather be done with it. I don’t want to screw up and be done in by Davenport or sent to the Tower by Lune and be killed by the Hyacinth. We have been waiting for this civil war for more than fifteen years already!”

“Honestly we would not be in this mess if Snapdragon was still up. We were more organized back then.”

“Well if we were still Snapdragon, then the tyrant would still be in the throne, yeah? And you and I would be broke! And we’d be in a bloody war with the east!”

William’s eyebrows furrowed. For all his time in the police department, he had never once heard of the term Snapdragon, of whispers of civil unrest spanning years, nor had he heard about an impending war with the nations of the east.

_Was there really so much he did not know? Was there really so few everyone knew?_

“Felipe, has the boy met with Redcliff?”

Even a noble was a member of the Phantom Scythe. How deep did this poison seep into their country?

“No, but I’ll take him there one of these days. We’ll reconvene to revisit the plan. We don’t know how much the 7th isn’t telling the 13th, and how much the Leader knows.”

_Oh great, more meetings_ , he thought. But then again, this was another new opportunity to discover more about the Scythe.

“Better do it fast. There’s a reason we’re meeting without the representatives of the 7th.”

* * *

The Lieutenant had poured through the old newspaper clippings and books he had in the vast library of the Hawkes mansion. Yet he cannot find it. Not a trace of anything related to any uprisings or talks of wars from the previous king’s reign.

As a matter of fact, there was a suspicious lack of anything negative about King Edward’s time on the throne.

During the meeting, they called him a tyrant. He also knew that the Freedom of Press act was a relatively modern law for their traditionalist country, penned by none other than Viscount Redcliff.

He also knew that the Scythe were terrorists. But why were they terrorists in the first place? What was wrong with the country that he himself cannot see?

There was something deeper at work here, but that did not mean that what the Scythe was doing can be justified.

* * *

William stabbed his steak as he chewed his bread.

_The Captain said find Lune, not join the Phantom Scythe._

Why the Captain didn’t kick him out of the police force, he had no idea. He just wanted to resign so bad but he can’t, that he hoped that Hermann would do the logical thing and sack him from the police force. It would be easier from him physically, emotionally, and morally.

So instead he tried to brush the thought away from his mind. “Great job covering for Lauren,” he said as he played with his food.

“Covering? I did not cover for her!”

There was a slight panic in her voice, but he chose to ignore it.

He was not blind. He had been seeing it for weeks. Kieran, Lauren, Kym, and even Lukas. The lot of them have been acting suspiciously. But he wasn’t one to judge. After all, he was probably the shadiest of them all.

“Yeah you did. You immediately said that they were in a relationship.”

“I mean they are. It was not a lie.”

He turned to look at Kym, who was pouting at him expectantly. He grinned and picked up a piece of steak, jamming it into the Sergeant’s mouth.

“Of course I know that. Remember when Lauren was undressing Kieran with her eyes last Wednesday?”

Kym made a face and snickered. “Yeah, they should get a room.”

William sighed. “Actually, they did.”

The Sergeant’s mouth hung open as her eyes sparkled, and he took the opportunity to shove a piece of bread inside her mouth. “Munch on that as I tell you how it went,” he began, happy to engage in gossip for the first time.

It was a good distraction.

With a low voice, he whispered to Kym how he saw Lauren and Kieran against the shelves, grinding against each other as the archivist greedily groped Lauren’s body from behind, muttering sweet nothings against her ears.

Will leaned in closer and closer to Kym as he further went into more vivid detail; where Kieran bit Lauren, where Kieran touched Lauren, how silent she whispered against the shelves as his fingers were servicing her while his erection was against her back.

_No one else was in the cafeteria that time._

They were very close now. She closed her eyes as his own ocean blue ones burned with confidence. Her lips parted and face flushed as he described the spectacle in great detail. Somewhere along the lines, he started to substitute their friends’ names with I’s and you’s, but he heard no protest so he continued.

He began putting in things he wanted to do; and things he should have done when they did it the first time.

He leaned in further, his lips near the crook of her neck, his damp breath hot against her skin, when he whispered, “You gasped as I touched your leg, and I used this opportunity to use my tongue to-”

“Wow.”

They both turned their heads to see Lukas, standing on the doorway.

“Obviously, I have cursed timing. Sorry to interrupt. Again.”

William bit his lip as Lukas stalked away, giving them the privacy they needed.

“Look Kym, I’m sorry, I don’t know what took over me.”

Except he did. He was stressed, he was irrational, and she was his sunlight. He wanted to tell her everything, he wanted to be able to lean on her, but he needed to keep her oblivious to protect her.

_He had been in love with Kym Ladell for some time now, and he wanted to say it._

But he was a traitor to his friends. He was a traitor to his country. So he turned his head to the side as he shut his eyes tightly.

It was obvious. _Kym will never consider him as such. No one ever did._

She should be laughing at how stupid he was for showing some of his feelings to her. She should be running to HR to file a case against him. That would make everything easier.

William jolted back to reality when he felt her warm hands cup the base of his chin. “Hey, _Williame_ ,” she whispered. “Are you okay?”

With delicate fingers, she brushed his cheeks.

_Try._

The Lieutenant found himself being hugged tightly by his Sergeant. She was the first shoulder he ever cried on, and it felt good.

It felt warm.

_It felt home._

“Thank you,” he whispered back as silent tears fell from his eyes.

Her arms tightened around him as she cradled his face and ruffled his hair.

She did not ask what was wrong, but she remained there with him, humming a tune, singing a song.

He knew that piece… He played it for her, once, when she demanded he demonstrate his musical talents to her. The [lullabye](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qh2hDT58GHY). 

William comfortably rested his head against her neck, planting a light kiss that took her by surprise.

_He will try to be fine. He will try to handle it._

_Thank you._

* * *

“I heard something interesting from our spies at the 11th,” Belladonna Davenport begun as she sipped her coffee.

They were sitting in a dainty coffee shop in the middle of downtown Ardhalis. The brick walls, homey atmosphere, and the sweet smell of coffee and chocolate. did nothing to make him forget the fact that he in the presence of Ardhalis’ most poisonous snake.

After the meeting at Carmen Camelia, he learned who she really was. Davenport the handler in some days, or the Viper Assassin in others; depending on what her mission was.

Either way, she was a snake.

“I did not do anything suspicious,” he insisted sternly, holding his gaze as he drank his own coffee.

“I know. But I just wanted to remind you that I can see you.”

He pinched himself hard.

_He will try to be fine. He will try to handle it._

* * *

“Oi, _William_ , me and Randall will go to the National Bank. Don’t miss me!” William’s radio buzzed.

He smirked. The cheer on her voice always made him smile.

“What are you grinning about?” Lauren giggled, jabbing him on the chest.

“Hey, I’m still your commanding officer, Lauren. Show me a little bit of respect at least.”

“Not until you tell me what’s up. I heard from Kieran who heard it from Lukas that-”

“When did Kieran and Lukas ever get that close?”

“The point being is that he saw you both getting all chummy in the cafeteria. Get a room at least!”

William grimaced at the irony of her statement, but he wasn’t going to tell Lauren how he saw them dry humping in the archive room.

“I confessed to her,” he quietly said.

Lauren stopped. For a moment, her eyes widened, before she slapped her hand over her mouth to suppress a gasp.

“Oh my god. And did she say yes?”

The Lieutenant pursed his lips, thinking back. “It was a bit complicated. We kissed. She said she liked me back, but that she was not ready to commit yet.”

The officer cocked her head to the side. “Well that’s weird. She always had a thing for you; that’s how we became friends in the first place. She kept asking me how to annoy you into liking her back.”

William raised an eyebrow, now interested. How long had Kym liked him?

“Oh I think the moment she stepped into the precinct? She didn’t tell it to me outright, but it was obvious when she declared it her life mission to annoy the hell out of you,” Lauren laughed. “Although she did ask at first if there was something between us; if we were in a relationship. Preposterous, am I right?”

Now that was a novel thought. William gave out a low chuckle, almost sad, his ocean blue eyes tearing away from her golden eyes. “Of course, preposterous.”

A comfortable silence set between them as they continued the patrol.

“You do know that there was a time I used to like you. Although I have no idea if it was because my mother was pressuring me to marry you.”

Lauren sighed.

“I figured as much. And I’m sorry if I never returned your affections. You do know that it will never work between us, yes?”

William waved a hand dismissively. “Ah, the past is the past, Lauren. If I were to be honest, you really only hurt my feelings once when we were younger, when I declared that you were my best friend and you chose Dylan instead.”

Lauren gasped, placing both of her hands clasped in front of her chest. “Oh my gods, did I really? I mean that was -”

“You don’t really need to explain. He was a more enjoyable company than me. Even while growing up, you still clung on to him. I’m relieved you have Kieran with you now. I was actually skeptical of him at first.”

“Oh, why is that?”

“Well, you acted weird on his first day, and I saw the both of you walking out of the precinct together.”

Lauren visibly stiffened, but raised her hands to surrender. “Well, he didn’t tell me earlier that he was taking a job here, of course I got angry a bit.”

“Then suddenly you both came in work late one day and were suddenly on friendly terms.”

“Uh, yeah, we were doing _things_ the night before,” she said, avoiding his gaze as a tense smile cracked on her face.

Obviously, Lauren didn’t want to talk about it. So he dropped the topic.

“I could never have helped you move on from Dylan the way he does.”

She laughed like she hasn’t laughed in years.

“Oh, you have no idea how much of a big help he is to me.”

_Lauren had never consider him as such. But Kym will._

“What Kym does for me, I hope Kieran does for you too.”

“And what do you think that is?”

“Making us happy.”

_He will try to be fine. He will try to handle it._

* * *

“Ladell! Randall! What in blazes?!” William shouted, sprinting towards the two officers who just came back from the bank.

Officer Randall just shrugged nonchalantly. “That blood is not my doing.”

“Oh my, I am so sorry, Detective Cooper, we will write an incident report-”

Cooper hissed at the trio. “Don’t you dare make an incident report,” he growled, storming inside the precinct.

“What the fuck was that,” he whispered angrily at his officers.

“Cooper was insulting the Sergeant. Again. Then he started bleeding.”

“That’s because you broke his arm!”

“I said I broke his arm, not stab his shoulder. Pity. I should stab him one day.”

“No, Lukas! Let the man insult me. I’d rather not have another caprisunned police officer in the premises.”

“Whatever. Lieutenant, I’m filing a leave for Friday.”

That took William and Kym by surprise. Lukas Randall had never taken a day off ever since he became a police officer. The man was the epitome of complete attendance.

“Er, don’t file it with me. File it with admin. Tell Lila.”

“She already knows. But if I don’t come back, look for my body.”

Lauren joined them, eyeing them all suspiciously. “What did you do to Detective Cooper?” she asked with an amused face.

Lukas shrugged. “Nothing.”

They all sighed.

“Yet.”

The remaining officers felt a shiver down their spine.

* * *

Tonight was a cold night. The breeze from the sea was wafting to the edge of the port, where William was standing and eyeing the horizon. He should have been spending it elsewhere, with the people he enjoyed and loved, but he was at the docks.

“There are multiple shipments that will come in for the Hawkes Enterprise,” Sake drawled as he puffed out another whiff of smoke on the Lieutenant’s face. “We have another batch of opium incoming. Make sure you coordinate with the post office. Those get delivered asap.”

Great, he was being tutored by the annoying Tim Sake.

“The weapons will be delivered to the warehouse.”

_Operation Fireworks was what it was called._ The grand revolution that the 7th was spearheading as an answer to the Leader’s passiveness. What a mess. But did it even matter? It’s the civilians who would be stuck in the crossfire in the end.

“And the nitroglycerine, send it to the test site. And we do the bombing tests in the quarry.”

William frowned. “What bombing? What quarry?”

“Oh, didn’t dearest uncle tell you how we plan to start the revolution?”

William pursed his lips.

“No, he failed to mention anything.”

Sake laughed. “Well, then let me brag to you, boy. I was the one who made the Allendale Trains Station go boom,” he smugly proclaimed, mirth and pride evident in his face.

For a moment, he felt lighthearted as he clutched the wall beside him. Immediately, he composed himself and stopped the urge to just shoot Sake then and there. This man showed no remorse, no empathy, as if he did it out of enjoyment rather than for some misguided ideal. He zoned in and out as Sake continued to prattle about how his double major in mining engineering and chemical engineering came in handy, and how he had a hand in constructing the train station and had tunnels dug beforehand to accommodate the Scythe’s plan.

“You know, the entrance to the underground tunnel was via the flower gardens! The idiots, no one even suspected!” he snickered. “King Edward was a fucking twat. If we didn’t bomb the train station, more would have died after being drafted for the war.”

But again, William wasn’t listening.

“The east is ready to strike us again since we’re so weak, but the Scythe promised to do something about it. Though if the monarchy hired me to make bombs for the war, then I’d also be fucking rich. After all, its money that made the world go round.”

He didn’t respond, so Sake continued coaxing and gloating.

“And everyone in the police department are so fucking blind, they can’t see it. Your captain, Hermann? Pathetic. Can’t even find Lune. Detective, oops, Officer Sinclair? Blinder than a motherfucking bat. I could kill her, but Belladonna fucking threatened me.”

That pulled William back to the conversation. Why will the snake do that?

“Doesn’t matter, I mean, the Hyacinth will take care of her in the end.”

That was where William lost his cool. He pulled Sake by the collar and slammed him against the side of the warehouse’s wall. “What the fuck did you just say? Lauren will be killed by the Hyacinth?”

“I never said that,” Sake grinned patronizingly. “I said that he was going to _take care_ of the bitch, whatever that means.”

“I swear to the gods Sake, if you’re just doing this to mess with me-”

“Oh, I’m not a liar.”

“We both know you are,” William growled, his face closing the gap between them as he glared at the scarred man.

Sake scoffed.

“I’m a liar, and a liar you can always trust to lie,” he replied smugly. “But worry not, boy. The Hyacinth can’t even find Lune, so I doubt he’ll be useful in dealing with Officer Sinclair.”

“I thought we agreed that I was being a good Scythe member.”

“Doesn’t look like it, since you’re threatening me right now, boy,” Sake chuckled in singsong. Reluctantly, William let go of the other man’s collar.

“ _He_ was right. You are a fucking doormat. Anything for the people you care about.”

He will never forget his responsibilities to the people of his great country. He will never let himself be led astray by blind morality. If he wanted to get back at them, he better do it discreetly.

_So until he had enough evidence, he will try to be fine. He will try to handle it._

* * *

“This is my nephew, William Hawkes,” Felipe said as he motioned for William to come closer. The Lieutenant extended a hand and firmly shook Viscount Redcliff’s.

> “Do a great job out here protecting the citizens, make Ardhalis proud.”

Another point added to the list of things where he was wrong.

The Viscount was responsible for penning documents that aid the Phantom Scythe’s operations. From the outside, they were pro mass, pro people. And honestly, progressive and relevant. It’s a shame that their real purpose was otherwise.

As Felipe and the Viscount talked, William found himself looking in the gardens. Members of Circus Royale were lounging, laughing, as if they didn’t have a single care in the world.

They weren’t present during the ball. They had a show somewhere in town.

“Do they know that they are working for the Phantom Scythe?” he suddenly said, his gaze still fixed on the scene beyond the window.

“Of course, boy. Do you think anyone joins the Scythe just because they were forced?”

“Coerced maybe.”

“ _Touché_ , but you’ll come to understand in the future. Everyone does.”

He listened in as he watched the circus members. They were all once orphans from Greychapel, taken in when no one else would. It was a dog eats dog world. They probably only wanted to survive.

How many people have been coaxed into terrorism due their unfortunate situations in life? Why did a kind person like Harvey become a spy?

“It’s a shame. We’d need another timing like that, but the 7th managed to make the opportunity slip. It was perfect. It would have been the perfect last full show of the Circus Royale.”

“It matters not anymore. Everyone is growing impatient. Obviously, the 7th managed to run into some inconvenience, which is why there are new orders from the Messenger. We are doing it in the Royal Shipyard, when the Trinidad will be inaugurated. We’ll do multiple explosions. Have another Circus Royal show. I’ll make sure Tran Marigold, Carmine Camelia, Swallowtail Brasserie, L’Arlequin, and a couple of other places host their own shows as well this time, and we can have multiple fireworks coming off. They will be the martyrs of our cause. Sake already said he can manage making more explosions.”

“Ah, the people will be livid. More than half the country’s population is already drug dependent on opium, and the market which we control is already ready to crash.”

“Our long awaited civil war will finally come.”

William’s mind was working like clockwork. The 7th was planning an explosion of a scale far greater than the Allendale Train Tragedy. Coupled with the drug use and economic crippling-

Why did they need to do this? Were they not going to help the mother country?

“So we are planning on burning Ardhalis to the ground.”

He needed to act fast if he were to save these people. It was his holy duty to protect them from the Phantom Scythe. _August 22._

“Very good, William my boy. You’re catching up fast.”

There was a heavy weight on his shoulders as a responsible Lieutenant of his beloved country.

_He will try to handle it._

* * *

He snapped the registry of deeds shut as he stalked out of the land management office in the city hall.

Carmine Camelia, the Grim Goblin, and the quarry site were the property of one Lauren Sinclair.

But that just didn’t make any sense. Lauren would never. She was just like he was; unrelated to the _family business_. She didn’t even manage the Sinclair properties.

* * *

“I heard from Felipe that you’ve been shown around already,” his mother said from the bed as was playing his piano to her.

It was a favorite of Kym’s. The [lullabye](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qh2hDT58GHY). He hummed along with the tune. He smiled at the flower arrangement on side table. Red dahlias and snapdragons. Should he ask what the Snapdragons were in relationship to the Phantom Scythe?

“Yes, it’s been going quite well.”

They sat in silence as his mother chugged another vial of opium.

“You shouldn’t trust Felipe too much.” He didn’t. “Your father-” she began, before sinking her head lower to the bed and stopping. “Nevermind. You will never understand.”

William tightened his jaw. “How will I understand if you never tell me anything?” he found himself snapping.

He took a deep breath. _He will try to be fine._

“Because you’re a naive boy. A privileged one. Ignorant and blind.”

He found himself pressing the keys harder. Years and years of being told that he was never going to be good enough, that he will never amount to anything. Even if he had a thousand people cheering him up, even if he had a hundred Kym Ladells supporting him, all he really ever wanted deep inside was the acknowledgement of his mother.

“If you know what’s best for you, you would have long married the Sinclair girl, but instead, I heard that you got a girlfriend.”

“I told you, Lauren already has a boyfriend.”

“Yes, Kieran White. That _boy_.”

He raised an eyebrow at the tone his mother used. Had she perhaps launched an investigation on Kieran’s background?

“Yes, and I have someone I like, not a girlfriend. Yet.”

“Please. She can’t help you secure your position once the civil war begins. You’re just fucking some common whore who just wants your-”

_He will try to handle it._

_No more._

_He was not fine._

He started slamming the keys to play in aggressive _fortissimo_.

“You know, _mother_ , I am so sick of this cycle. I can accept you telling me that I’m worthless, that I am nothing. After all, you are already controlling everything in my life! But please hold off insulting Kym. Please.”

Josephine scowled at him. “Sometimes, you sound like your father.”

His mouth gaped. To be compared with his father, to be finally acknowledged, but like this.

He was tired. He was hurt. But he will persevere, just as how he had done all his life.

  
  
“Think what you will. You are a terrible mother and I hate you with every fiber of my being.”

Not a lie.

* * *

And William was back in his own study. He slammed the door shut and collapsed his back against the mahogany door.

He was shaking, and his palm bled as his nail dug deep against his skin. That was the first time he walked away from his mother.

To hell with his mother. To hell with his uncle. To hell with everyone in the Phantom Scythe. They can all go to the fucking Tower and die by the hand of the Hyacinth.

From the corner of his eyes, he saw an envelope that was not supposed to be there.

Dragging his feet, he swiped the stray document from the table.

_La Lune._

They had come to him.

He tore open the envelope and read.

He should send this to Hermann. He should tell Kym about this. But a little voice in his head told him no. _La_ _Lune was helpful. La Lune can help take down the Phantom Scythe._

_La Lune can help you be free of your mother. La Lune can help you to not feel alone._

Without the slightest of hesitations, with steadfast conviction, he threw the envelope to the open fireplace. Then he took out a bottle of wine and finished it in one sitting, an ironic grin cracking the darkness of his face.

Josephine Sterling-Hawkes can die by the Hyacinth’s hand and he would not even pretend to care.

He began humming Kym’s favorite tune.

_He was not fine. He will not try to handle this anymore._

And it felt good to feel free.

_It felt home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHERE HAVE WE BEEN? IT'S BEEN A MONTH SINCE THE LAST PUBLISH!
> 
> Ok so we fixed a lot of things in the Impasse continuity and aligned it to canon. A FAIR FEW THINGS WERE CHANGED IN THE PREVIOUS CHAPTERS. Everything in Carmine Camela chapters were taken into consideration. Canon compliance ftw! Also, Impasse will have an audio reading. This project already begun and we have a sample from episode 2/54. Please follow the Podfic-ers on [Youtube](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCKPUGGPSuza2bVn6dT4446g) and [ Instagram](As%20read%20by%20the%20PodDic_ers)!
> 
> \---
> 
> OK so we know we annihilated William here. You were all scared for him and here it is. Won't apologize. T.T AND THERE ARE SO MANY PLOT DROPS SO the mystery is amped up in this chapter. So proud of this one! As a matter of fact, so proud of all our character analysis turned fanfic. Can't wait to release the next chapter. See you all in a bit!
> 
> \---
> 
> All characters of Purple Hyacinth belong to [Sophism](https://www.instagram.com/deadsophism/?hl=en) and [Ephemerys](https://www.instagram.com/ephemerys_ph/?hl=en).
> 
> [Read Purple Hyacinth on Webtoons](https://www.webtoons.com/en/mystery/purple-hyacinth/list?title_no=1621&page=1)
> 
> **All links to the main PH discord server will be unplugged by the next update. A different link will come up.**

**Author's Note:**

> 💖As always, with love, hope you enjoyed this chapter 💖 We thoroughly love our character development of the Impasseverse and we hope you love them too. ♥♥ Thank you! You motivate us to write. ♥♥
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated. Me and Livia would love to hear what you think!
> 
> •↓↓↓↓↓◘Comment down there◘↓↓↓↓↓•


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